Freedom Of The Press
by OpportuneMoment
Summary: A sequel or alternate ending to The Green Green Glow of Home... what revenge will Trask dream up for the Man of Steel? How will Lois stand to see her hero suffer? **COMPLETE AT LAST!**
1. Loose Ends

**FREEDOM OF THE PRESS**

A sequel / alternate ending to 'The Green Glow of Home'

**Author**: OpportuneMoment

**Disclaimer**: Oh, how I wish I owned '_Superman'_, the things I would do with him… but I do not, nor the show '_Lois and Clark - The New Adventures of Superman'_… please don't sure me for borrowing my heroes.

**Note**: Aha, how we fanfic writers can twist the facts… this sequel is rather AU as my Trask did not die at the end of _The Green Green Glow of Home_. He just comes back to cause more mischief… enjoy!

**Chapter One - Loose Ends**

Clark sat back in his swivel chair with a huff. He looked over at Lois' desk - she was tapping away with gusto. Yep, she was loving every minute of it, her hands flying over the keyboard almost as fast as his own could, given the right motivation. Except that _his_ was a story he truly did not want to write.

Since taking his job at the Planet and making his first appearance in Metropolis as a larger-than-life hero, many of his best articles had been autobiographical. Not that he minded reporting on himself most of the time - it could be considered quite a challenge to keep the objective voice of the journalist when the dirty reality of the events filled his mind, and to create an article out of only the details that Clark Kent should be aware of, leaving out some of the best, and worst, bits simply because people would wonder too much about his sources.

Sure, he could write about the great and powerful Man of Steel. But this was different. This mostly concerned the great and powerful Man of Steel's greatest weakness. Lois was eagerly bashing out the story of Bureau 39, a secret military group, possibly government-sanctioned, though that wasn't clear yet, whose sole purpose was to search out and neutralise any extra-terrestrial threat. Lois turned over another page of the enormous stack of notes next to her and continued to type.

Clark was to write the other half of the article, concerning the discovery of a certain green rock and the belief held by Jason Trask, the crazed Bureau 39 commander, that it could actually harm or even kill Superman. Clark stared at the computer screen, feeling just as uneasy as he had every day since they had returned from Smallville. He thought he had removed the threat to himself as much as he could: after that hated green stone had smashed against the rock in the pond, Clark and his father had snuck out there late that night. Clark stood way back as Jonathan fished out the still faintly-glowing shards with a net and dropped them into a lead-lined box, and then flew into the upper atmosphere and hurled it as far as possible into the freezing black of space. But the man who had found it, the man who knew its true power, and, more chillingly, the man who knew the true identity of the Man of Steel, was still at large.

With a grimace Clark recalled that that was entirely his own fault. He had held Trask there against the rock, fist raised, ready to deliver a blow that would surely kill, and he had stopped. He had let him go, because no matter how unworthy and abhorrent a specimen Trask was, he was human, and Clark would never take a human life. The moment his back was turned though, Trask had pulled a gun, only to be shot by one of Clark's oldest friends. He'd thought it was over, that he was safe, but when he and the Sheriff had gone to retrieve the body, it was gone. His x-ray vision had turned up a bullet-proof vest with a single hole in the bushes nearby. The worst part was that Clark had no idea if the piece of meteor rock he disposed of was the only piece. How much more could there be out there, and how much was still in the hands of that maniac?

Rachel had promised to keep looking for their alien-hunter, but that aside it seemed that everyone was safe, and Lois, Clark and Jimmy returned to Metropolis to compose a tale of drama and intrigue that would have the city entranced. Newspaper sales would soar...

"How's it coming?" Lois' question dragged Clark out of his melancholy and back to his desk. "Are you finished?" she pressed. The dark look he returned her needed no accompanying words. They'd been over this before, in fact their argument had lasted almost the entire drive back from Kansas. Sighing, she hit 'save' and got up from her chair, stretching her back out before coming to perch of the edge of his desk.

"Don't tell me it isn't over, Clark. I _know_ it's not over. But at the very least we can get an article out there which tells the world that this whacko exists, that he butted heads with Superman and that he lost. That's news."

"I'd feel better if we were writing the _capture_ of Jason Trask."

"We will be, but who knows how long it will take, and we can't just sit on this."

Clark folded his arms stubbornly. Lois glared back, her placatory tone evaporating as she looked at his petulant expression.

"You don't have to like it, Kent. The Chief says, we do. That's the way a newsroom works."

"By Elvis' golden microphone, did I just hear _Lois Lane_ say those words?" Perry's voice boomed from just behind them, "Someone get that in writing!" Lois scowled and turned to face the editor-in-chief.

"Just giving farmboy here a bit of a pep-talk. _He_ doesn't want to write the Smallville story." She sounded like a tattling child, and had the same effect. Perry turned his laser on Clark, then.

"Kent, the Daily Planet doesn't bury a dynamite story because one reporter decides it'll ruin his memories of corn-festivals and square-dancing. Hands to keyboard, now!"

Reluctantly Clark set to work, and when Perry had stalked off to scare the life out of some copy-boy or other, Lois perched on his desk again, reading as he typed, absently playing with her hair or the paperclips on his little magnet. Clark both loved and hated it when she did this. The perfectionist part of him wanted her to go away until he could simply hand her the finished article, refined and revised to a masterpiece of journalistic excellence, not to have her watch as he changed sentences round and even made the occasional typo. But the part of him that simply could not shake his abiding adoration for the infuriating woman loved to have her sit so close, to have the delicate scent of her hair perfume his small workspace, and found the silly habit of arranging his Post-It notes into neat lines utterly endearing.

"You thought of a name for the rock yet?"

He had. Better yet he _knew_ the name for the rock, though how he couldn't explain, it was just something he felt, rather like knowing the word for rain or mountains. This stuff was Kryptonite, and he told her so.

"Kryptonite. Hm. I like it."

_I don't,_ Clark thought grimly to himself, the terrible thought still lurking at the back of his mind that somehow Trask was in possession of the only other known piece of the rock, the one which Wayne Irig had sent to the lab for analysis and which had subsequently gone missing. _There_ was a nightmare waiting to happen.

Lois and Clark's article went to press at 3pm, after the boys in graphics had added a rather elaborate artistic representation of Kryptonite and one of Jimmy's dramatic photos of Clark being manhandled into a van by Trask. They'd finished earlier than usual, since after around fifteen minutes of sitting on his desk Lois had return to her own, leaving Clark free to surreptitiously type at super-speed.

By 4 o' clock, Lois was idly shifting files around in her computer, looking at the clock and counting the minutes till she could leave. She knew she should be using this time wisely, doing something, anything to help track down Trask. The whole business seemed to be worrying Clark a great deal - she guessed he was afraid his parents might come under attack again. Lois was anxious for a different reason. It still disturbed her that with all that had happened, people being put in danger over an alien rock, a zealous ET-hunter still on the loose, Superman had not put in an appearance. Didn't he care that Trask was on the warpath, or that his supposed _friend_ Clark's family was still vulnerable? Above all, she was afraid for the hero she loved. Somewhere out there was a madman with a weapon against Superman.

On the dot of five, she was headed for the elevator with barely a backward wave in answer to Clark's friendly "Goodnight Lois!".

As she approached her apartment, a chill ran down her spine at the sight of the busted lock, the door chain dangling and broken, the door ajar.

She pushed the door open slowly, silently. _Are they still inside?_ She didn't know whether she wanted to catch whoever it was in the act, or hope that they were long gone, presumably with whatever they wanted to find in her place.

She stalked around her apartment like a nervous cat, peering round the corner into her kitchen bedroom and noticing with a shudder that her bedclothes were all messed up. She'd made her bed this morning as always, but now the whole room looked like a massacre in an aviary. Feathers were still drifting around in the atmosphere and from the slashed pillows and her duvet was haemorrhaging eider down… she must have missed the intruders by less than half an hour. The thought made her heart skip briefly as she retreated into the lounge. The drawers there had been rifled through and the bookcase was in disarray, but thankfully they had spared her furniture. She flopped down on the sofa, still shaken, and considered her next move. She could start clearing up her bedroom, but if she called the police they would need photos of it. She should really find out what was missing, but her sudden tiredness seemed to ache her very bones. Irrationally, she felt she might cry. She longed for a friendly face, someone to hug and not press her with questions…

The airy curtains lifted a little in a gust of wind. A soft _swoosh_ she was sure she recognised whispered outside her window.

She went over and drew the floaty cloth aside, her breath catching at the sight of him. His usually bright colours muted by the dusk, he hovered effortlessly, just below her. Lois' eyes went glassy with relief and gratitude, and Superman's gentle smile of greeting dropped away into worry.

"Lois? Are you alright?"

She stepped back to allow him to alight on her windowsill and drop softly in. His hands went instinctively to her shoulders, his eyes holding hers.

"Yeah, sure," she said, but aware that she sniffed as she did so, "It's just your average apartment-tossing. Maybe they wanted cash or jewellery…"

At the mention of the robbery Superman had quickly scanned the whole apartment, noted the chaos of the bedroom and checked for any unpleasant additions. Thankfully there were no bombs set to go off any second.

"Have you called the police?"

Lois shook her head wearily. "Maybe tomorrow. I'm tired and they'd be here for hours…"

"Well, in that case maybe you shouldn't stay here tonight."

Lois looked at him, a thrill of curiosity at what he might mean by that. Was he inviting her to his place? Did he even _have_ a place?

"If you're offering--"

"I, err, meant that perhaps you could stay with Clark. He's sort of the reason I came tonight."

_Clark_. How did she know that would be his first suggestion? They were friends, sure, but for all the overtures of affection she'd made to him, some subtle and some downright blatant, her hero seemed determined to channel her in the direction of her colleague. Clark had had a crush on her from day one, she knew all too well. His feelings for her were as obvious as her own for Superman. But was Superman actively trying to match-make between Clark and herself?

"He said you seemed anxious about something when you left work, and I thought you might like to… see a friendly face."

Lois smiled at the way he seemed to have read her earlier thoughts perfectly. Perhaps it was her tiredness or the fright of the break-in which dissolved the voice of propriety in her head and made her take two small steps towards him. Two small steps and she was against his warm, strong chest. She felt his breath quicken in surprise before his arms folded round her and she felt safe, cared for.

She waited for him to pull away, to decide that this was too awkward. Instead his hand found her hair, stroked it gently as he held her to himself in silence.

"Superman," she mumbled softly into the 'S' on his chest, "I don't want to go anywhere tonight, don't want to stay at Clark's, but I…" No, she couldn't bring herself to say it. If she asked him to stay with her, he would only have to turn her down, and that would ruin the sweetness of his embrace, the redeeming glory of a stress-filled evening.

He looked down at her without releasing his gentle hold.

"You aren't going to call the police are you." It wasn't a question, he knew her well enough to understand her lack of faith in cops. What could they do? Take photos of a big mess and dust for prints which wouldn't find any match. Her slight shake of the head proved his assumption. Sighing softly, he walked forwards until the back of Lois' legs touched her sofa, then let her down gently onto it.

"Stay there," he said softy. A sudden rush of air and a streak of red and blue blurred round her apartment. Almost before she could blink he was standing in front of her again.

"That's better." Lois' apartment was spotless, the drawers replaced, coffee table and surfaces of the kitchen all tidy and, as she craned her head round to per through the door to her bedroom, she saw that the huge mass of feathers and shredded bedclothes were all gone and her bed was made up fresh and clean. The apartment was soft-lit with lamps making the place feel cosy and secure.

Lois smiled her thanks and invited him to sit with a gesture.

"Do you mind if I ask what was worrying you, before this, I mean?" He asked as he sat. She did remember, and at once was both grateful for the opportunity to put her nagging questions to him, and at the same time loath to get into anything unpleasant right now.

"It's just the story, you know, Bureau 39, Trask still being out there somewhere--"

"And you want to know I'm working on it." He finished for her.

"Well, don't make it sound like I'm your nagging editor or something, but, yeah."

Lois' breath caught again as Superman gently took her hand into his own. "Lois, if you're afraid for me, don't be…" he looked down then, and she wondered what it was that made him unable to meet her eyes. "I'm a-afraid enough." He breathed softly to the floor.

_Superman, afraid?_ The thought shook her somehow. There'd been moments since her return from Smallville when she doubted the rock even existed, despite Clark's assertion that it was all very real and very dangerous. Superman had never even encountered it; he hadn't shown his face in Kansas at all. But here, now, on her sofa the Man of Steel admitted to being afraid…

"This stuff, Clark called it 'Kryptonite'… it's really that bad? How come you never told me about it before?"

"Would _you_ want to advertise the existence of something like that? I've felt it's effects, and I'm willing to bet that Trask has a stash of it somewhere," he straightened up, then, a hardness in his eyes as though he tried to forcibly crush the weakness he felt, "But no matter what, I won't let him stop me from doing my job, protecting the city and the people I care about."

It was a fine speech, Clark thought, all words and bluster to mask the insidious fear that had clawed at him for the last week. Last week he was invulnerable, invincible and no self-made-colonel with delusions of alien invasion could have shaken him. But he'd felt the fire in his gut when the green rock was nearby, tasted blood in his mouth and the pain of a sound beating, without his super powers to protect him. He'd had the sense to insist that his mom and dad leave Smallville and go on an extended trip to visit a cousin in Montana until Trask was safely behind bars, but a heightened sense of foreboding still greeted him every morning as he waited for the madman to make his next move.

Lois saw the determination mixed with some other, deeper emotion move through Superman's stormy eyes. How strange to see the first touch of fear she'd ever seen in him and discover that it only made her love him more. Boldly she brought her hand up to his brow to move back the lock of hair that hung over his eyes, and captured his strong chin his her fingers.

"You're right. No man with a rock is stopping Superman! You've squashed bigger bugs than this one - we'll just find where his nest is and hit it before he can whip out his bit of meteor."

Clark had to smile at this. She made it all sound so simple. Her faith was unshakable, and it warmed his heart. He'd come here tonight to comfort _her_, after one of her newsroom rants had revealed her anger that Superman wasn't even acknowledging the idea of Kryptonite and the potential threat. He'd flown up to her window to tell her that the great Man of Steel was on the case, and instead been lulled by her softness into an admission of weakness. Now she was the one giving him strength, she was the hero, rescuing him.

Silence fell as he looked into her eyes, past them to the fiery woman inside. Her slim fingers held his chin, and she leaned closer.

He shouldn't do this, Clark told himself, shouldn't get into this intimate situation with her. The heavens knew how much he wanted it, but she didn't really _know_ him… this would just be playing on her Superman crush. Her eyes were closed as she inched towards him, her face peaceful, her trust in him absolute. Would she ever go to kiss Clark with the same gentle assurance?

Her breath was warm on his lips, and all arguments seemed suddenly groundless. His hands slid into her hair and he gave himself into the sensation of her kiss.

Lois' heart was fit to burst with anticipation as she closed her eyes and leaned in towards him, her sensible mind telling her that this was too much for him, that he would ever-so-gently rebuff her offer of intimacy. But her heart wondered, and _hoped_, that the powerful feelings she knew where there, no matter how he tried to hide them, would take over. At the first brush of his lips on hers, she felt his surrender and rejoiced.

Gentleness became passion and the kiss deepened, both so willing now to lose their concerns in each other's arms, it seemed nothing would ever part them. But they did part, and Lois' intense eyes met the cloudy depths of her hero's.

"Stay with me…" she whispered. He sighed, trying to form a sensitive refusal, but she interrupted with a squeeze of his hands, "Just… can you hold me until I fall asleep?" It was cliché and she knew it, but she couldn't let him just fly off after a moment like that. She needed to know that one kiss on the spur of the moment wasn't all she would ever have from him.

Clark was walking a very fine line, he knew, between surrendering to his feelings for Lois, giving more of himself than he should, and going too far the other way: refusing her, hurting her. The knowledge also came back to him that she had been traumatised this evening, her privacy violated, and he should be easing her feelings, not compounding them by abandoning her because of some oh-so-high moral code. He scooped her up from the couch and floated over to her bedroom, now spotless and welcoming. Laying her down gently on the bed, he felt another stab of conscience - he _should not_ be in here with her…

Her arms did not leave his shoulders as he let her down, but insistently pulled him next to her onto the soft duvet.

"Lois, I… I should go. This is too--"

"I know." Lois breathed in return. She hated to admit it, but she could see in his eyes this was uncomfortable for him, too much too fast. For herself, she would have it all, live the dream of having Superman as her lover, her soul-mate… but she didn't suppose for a second that his honour would allow him to 'take advantage' of her tonight.

"Superman, please, just promise me one thing," she asked quietly as he stood to leave, "The next time I see you, don't do what I think you will and pretend that tonight never happened."

Clark had to admit that she knew him pretty well. He supposed that, faced with the awkwardness of it, he probably would have thrown up a wall of bland friendship between them and glossed over the details of this evening.

She stood up before him, earnestness in her face. "We _kissed_…"

"I remember." He replied with a wry smile which softened the intensity of Lois' appeal a little.

"Then you don't… regret it?" Lois hadn't realised before, but this was the thing she really feared: the feeling that it was a mistake which might drive him away.

Clark didn't know how to answer that. He regretted that she wasn't really aware who she was being so intimate with, but the rest of it… he stepped to her, taking her shoulders and capturing her mouth in a lingering kiss once again. As he released her, breathlessly he asked, "That answer your question?"

Lois clung to his chest, her mind reeling and shouting with the joy of it. No mistake, no regret - he loved her…

"There's just one thing I do regret, Lois," he began, and just like that her heart sank into a pit of ice in her stomach as he put her to arm's length to look in her eyes. She returned his gaze with trepidation. "That right now this can't be… _more_, because--"

Lois felt a bitter chill at her core - he was going to crush her dreams, tell her that they would never be together due to some stupid fear or rule about his alien nature…

"There's too much about me you don't know. You don't know who I really am everyday, where I go when Superman's not needed," His heart was beating a hundred-fold… he could just tell her, right now, _I am Clark Kent._

But it wasn't right - _something_ held him back from those words which could at once liberate and condemn him. Tonight he had held Lois, kissed her and allowed his love free reign for just a while. Tonight was perfect, and those words would ruin it. He felt keenly that truth should come from his true self, not his disguise. Clark would tell her…

He felt the tension in Lois' whole body, as though she held herself in readiness for a blow. The pleasure that had danced in her eyes just seconds ago had drained away and only despair replaced it. This would not do.

"You don't know me, Lois," he repeated, but he brought his face closer to hers, let reassurance and love flow into his gaze, "But you _will_. I promise you that tomorrow you will see me, not like this," he indicated his gaudy uniform, "But the _real_ me. And then…" he didn't finish the sentence, didn't need to. He'd made it as plain as he could that his identity was the only thing keeping them apart.

This evening was getting to be really exhausting, Lois thought. Her emotions being dragged from one end of the spectrum to another in the space of ten heartbeats, it was almost too much. She'd expected him to pronounce a sentence of doom on the possibility of a relationship, but instead he'd promised to reveal his most closely guarded truth, to release himself from the bonds of secrecy and _trust_ her.

"No more secrets?" she asked him - it was almost too much to believe from the most introverted man she'd ever known. He nodded, then slipped his hands from her shoulders, down her arms as he moved back, holding her hands for another moment.

"Tomorrow, Lois." He smiled, and Lois knew the gleam of anticipation she saw there was reflected in her own face. In a rush of air he was gone, her gauzy curtains dancing in the breeze. Lois hugged herself and flopped back onto the bed, breathless with the thrill of it. Superman had lain next to her here… Superman had promised to reveal all to her. She remembered the meaningful 'and then' at the end of his speech and he mind flew back to his embrace, the intensity of his kiss... _Does that answer your question?_

He wanted her too… and tomorrow, the barrier between them would be lifted. Unable to keep from speculating, she started to run through possible scenarios of the next day's revelation. Would she receive a phone call at her desk calling her to some rendezvous at the park, where he would arrive as his true self? What would he wear? Or would he turn up at the Planet with a bunch of flowers and kiss her where she stood? She'd have fun explaining _that_ to her colleagues…

_And poor Clark_, she thought suddenly, amazed that her mind had at this moment chosen to focus on her devoted partner. He would be devastated when she began a passionate relationship with some man she seemed outwardly to have just met. He would worry at her apparently rash decision to take up with a stranger, and his poor faithful heart would be crushed with jealousy for the one man in the world he could never compete with. Clark was so sweet, a true friend… Lois had the irrational feeling that she was betraying him somehow, even when there had never been anything between them.

Damn it, her thoughts of Clark were threatening to poison the happiness she felt about her possible future with Superman. She would not have this perfect night ruined. Lois closed her eyes, saw the 'S' on his chest, the deep pools of his eyes as they promised so much to her… as she drifted off to sleep the last thing she recalled dreaming was her hero coming to her in her bed…

_And suddenly he was writhing beside her in agony. "What's wrong, Superman, what's happening?!"_

_He looked past her to the other side of the room, where Trask stood, his malicious grin illuminated by the sickly green glow of the rock in his hands. _

"_You want to know who he is Miss Lane? You really want to KNOW?!"_

"NO!" Lois jerked awake, her arm flying to the other side of the bed where Superman… no, he wasn't there, and the far side of the room was bathed in the soft light of the dawn. Not a maniac in sight.

**End of Part One**


	2. A Slight Deviation From The Plan

**FREEDOM OF THE PRESS**

**Part Two - A Slight Deviation From The Plan**

_Today's the day_, Clark thought, his throat constricted with nerves as he assessed his reflection in the mirror. His hair was perhaps a little slicker than normal - going for a kind of half way look between the two people Lois would be meeting as one in a few hours. Would she suspect him of being the mystery man about to spring his super-identity on her? Would she be disappointed that instead of some exotic stranger coming in to make a formal introduction, it would be plain old Clark Kent, the small town hack she was more used to treating as an office punch-bag than a lover?

_Today's the day,_ Lois told herself again, still not quite able to believe it would actually happen, that Superman would come to her in a guise of normality and take her into his confidence, and maybe even into his arms, though that would require some privacy… She studied her appearance in the mirror; her outfit was perhaps a little sexier than normal, going for a look which would entice him and at the same time not be too racy as to draw attention from her co-workers. Clark would notice, of course. She was almost sure the farm boy committed every detail of her clothing and behaviour to memory in the first twenty seconds of their day.

Clark arrived for work a full hour early, and was honestly amazed when he strode into the lobby to see the elevator doors just closing, and Lois on the other side of them. She hadn't beaten him to the newsroom in nigh on five months, ever since one very extended lecture on his work ethic had led him to start setting his alarm clock much earlier than he'd like. He understood her eagerness to get in this morning, and he wished he was half as thrilled about the coming day as she was. She only wanted to see her hero in the flesh. _He_ had to lay himself bare.

He set his jaw in determination as the elevator arrived to rush him to that meeting, and the moment he stepped out he saw Lois sit up as though she'd been stung, staring intently at the lift doors, no doubt hoping to see Superman's alter-ego standing there. _Well, she does,_ thought Clark wryly as he watched Lois' expression drop. He smiled and waved as he strode down the ramp, trying for his usual bouncy step despite the lead in his stomach. Lois returned the smile, though it was clearly forced.

At her ever-so-slightly distant but cheery, "Morning Clark," he mentally reviewed his game-plan again. He'd ask her to step into the conference room for a moment, and there divulge his secret. Then he supposed he'd have to stand and take the torrent of abuse which would surely follow.

"Hey CK," Jimmy's bubbly tone was far more genuine as he stepped up to the pair of star reporters. "Did you hear the news?" Both Lois' and Clark's expressions told that they had not. Clark felt a wave of concern - what had Superman missed last night when he was lingering with Lois? If people had been hurt while he indulged his feelings…

Jimmy held out a sheaf of freshly developed photos. "I've been out half the night getting these - it's the same all over the city, twenty cases reported so far!" The picture showed a bedroom in chaos, the sheets torn and pillows stabbed, ornaments strewn all over the floor and furniture overturned.

Lois' eyes widened, "It happened to my place too!"

"Yeah? Aw, I'm really sorry Lois, but nothing was taken, right?"

"I-I'm not sure I didn't really…" she realised that she hadn't even bothered to check if anything was missing from her bedroom - she'd been far more occupied with Superman's visit.

"Well, none of the other places had anything stolen, but all of them were rifled through." Jimmy continued, his eyes ringed with lack of sleep but still excited. "It's like someone was searching for something specific, and tried looking in as many apartments as possible." His voice lowered conspiratorially, "No prints anywhere either… I'm thinking it's a _poltergeist_!"

Lois actually snorted at this before she caught Jimmy's slightly hurt look and covered up her scorn at the idea. Clark stepped in.

"Well, I don't know if a ghost could bust locks like that, but, well, we'll definitely look into it, right Lois?" He looked over his glasses at her, willing her to take the hint.

"Uh, yeah, sure. So, I guess we'd better go see Perry."

A short debriefing later, and the pair had their assignment. As anxious as he was about getting the major duty of today over with as he had promised, Clark had to admit he was glad of this distraction. They had a list of all the homes which had been broken into last night, and were doing follow-up calls.

"Hello, is that, err, Mr. Warner? This is Clark Kent from the Daily Planet. I wanted to ask a few questions about--"

"Mr. Kent, hello again!"

"Err, do I know you?"

"Sure do, you did a story on my farm a few years ago for the _Gazette_. It was before I moved to Metropolis. I'm a Kansas man, same as you."

Clark did remember: the Warners' farm had been at the centre of an archaeological dispute when some Native American artefacts had been unearthed on his land. The whole place had burned down under suspicious circumstances, but Clark had been key in getting Mr. Warner's insurance money. And now his city townhouse had been burgled?

As Clark worked on down his half of the list, he realised with a sickly dread that this was all to do with him. Every victim he talked to had had dealings with him before, not with Superman, but with Clark Kent. Some names he recognised straight away and some people recalled their involvement with him during the phone call.

They weren't all to do with the Daily Planet, either. Many cases went back to his early days in Metropolis, before his mother's sewing machine had helped create his colourful alter-ego. His next-door neighbour when he first came to town, who had been followed and threatened by her ex, a traffic warden who would have received a beating were it not for Clark's timely intervention, and a couple whose children got stuck in an elevator in his building had all had their homes violated too. And then there was Lois' apartment, which had clearly been broken into because of her connection with him.

Of course, Lois' calls were not turning up the same conclusions, but Clark took a look at her list and a little research confirmed his theory. What was the point of all this? None of the victims apart from Lois were in any way close to him, and in most cases whatever aid he provided them was not documented, not public knowledge. To link all these folk would take extensive research into his life, and who would put in that kind of effort? What did they hope to find in these bedrooms all around the city…?

_Or maybe they weren't trying to take anything…_with a shudder of dread Clark wondered if the perpetrators had been placing something in each of these apartments, then making it look like a spate of robberies, knowing that, at some point in the investigation, Clark would visit many, if not all of the sites.

Lois put the phone down and struck another name off her list, huffing restlessly.

"Well that was a gigantic waste of time," she complained, "I just spent a good ten minutes listening to this old man explain how he nearly died once trying to get a sofa down the stairs. Nothing to do with the break-in, he just launched into his life story!"

Clark didn't need the life story, he remembered all too well how he'd caught the sofa in the nick of time, grateful that the man was too exhausted to notice the extraordinary strength of the stranger who had come to his aid.

Lois wandered over and peered at Clark's list. "You got the same run-around, huh? I guess we'll just have to go talk to some of these people, see if we can't find the link--"

"Uh, great idea, Lois," Clark butted in, hoping she wouldn't hear his over-enthusiasm, "Why don't I start the visits, and you hit the public records office?"

Lois smiled her very familiar smile of superiority and patted his shoulder, the old-hand to the rookie, "Public Records? Kent, that's the most well-trawled and consistently _useless_ source available to the journalist of today. But don't worry; it takes years to know this stuff." She strode towards the elevator, plucking her jacket from the back of her chair on the way.

Clark groaned. This wouldn't go well and he knew it. Within the first two or three visits Lois would get the connection and want to start digging into his past… also, he had to find whatever had been left there as a message or a danger to him, and he needed to do it quickly. Clark was honestly sick of trying to conduct a search as only he could whilst still trying to play the earnest but clueless 'Kent'. With a scowl of determination he reaffirmed his decision to get the truth out to his partner today.

He hurried after Lois, but before they made it up the ramp he heard the high-pitched ring of the elevator as it came to a halt. As was his habit, he used his x-ray vision to see the passengers of the lift before the doors opened, and his heart almost skipped a beat as a surge of fear rose within him. A second later Jason Trask was emerging, backed by his armed followers. His eyes fell on Lois, who had been poised to call the lift.

"Were you going somewhere, Miss Lane?" Trask asked in an overly friendly tone, bringing his pistol level with her chest. "I'd really rather you and Mr. Kent stick around for a while." With the gun he waved them back down the ramp into the crowded bull-pen.

"What do you want Trask? More polygraphs? Or just to get yourself arrested. The police are on their way, you know." Lois lied well under pressure, her firm tone giving nothing away.

Trask smiled, "Aw, that's a shame, because if that _were_ the case, I'd have to kill whoever called them as an example to everyone." His eyes bored into hers, "That wouldn't happen to be you, would it?" Lois' flinty expression never faltered as he laughed dismissively and walked onto the balcony. She looked ready to launch herself at the man, or else shout some more inflammatory comments which may well get her killed, so Clark took her shoulders and insistently drew her back into the safety of the crowd.

Everyone in the newsroom was now frozen to the spot in alarm, eyes going from Trask, leaning casually on the rail, to the khaki-clad men who circled the room and took up strategic positions all around. Clark took stock of the threat instantly: eight soldiers with automatic weapons and Trask with his handgun - he could certainly take them all out, but in front of all his colleagues? In front of Lois? He'd have to slip away quickly and change… He felt even more sick with anxiety as he saw one more man exit the lift and set up a tripod and DV camera on the balcony, giving a brief nod to his commander as he began filming.

Trask drew himself up with an air of authority, surveying the newsroom from his elevated position. His eyes lighted on Clark again and a smug smile crossed his ragged features as he anticipated his victory. Clark shot back a look of undisguised hatred which only seemed to please the madman more. Trask cleared his throat and imperiously called the newsroom to order.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Colonel Jason Trask, of Bureau 39..." At this he took out his official-looking government I.D. wallet and displayed it around the room. There were murmurs of recognition from some reporters who knew of the man only since yesterday's article, and some angry mumbles from others, including Jimmy, who had risked his own life in Smallville to try to bring this maniac down.

Clark was tense. He barely dared to breathe as he scanned the room for possibilities of escape. He could sidle off through the crowd, of course, try to make it to the conference room and then jump out of the window, but not only would Lois and the others around him ask questions, but Trask, who was keeping one shrewd eye on him all the time, would almost certainly make something of it. He couldn't afford to make a scene, he knew, so he just stood as still as possible and kept wary eye contact with his would-be accuser.

The crowd parted as Perry White moved through the assembled reporters and news staff, his face set in stone and his eyes brimming with rage. His newsroom was sacred to him, and no one violated it without severe consequences.

"Listen here! This is my territory you're in, and I don't much care what government agency you say you're from. There'll be no guns, no hold-ups and no demands made in my newsroom!" His voice boomed even louder than most of the staff were used to, and they quaked in fear even though he was on their side. Trask, however, stood patiently as Perry's tirade ran its course, his face unconcerned and placid. When the editor fell silent, Trask spoke up again.

"Thank you, Mr. White, for making that clear to me. Now what I'm here to make clear to you, all of you..." he threw a meaningful glance at Clark which no one else seemed to notice, "Is that there is an intruder in your midst right now!"

"Yeah, you!" Jimmy retorted boldly. Trask fixed him briefly with an icy stare before continuing in a more patronizing tone,

"I don't suppose any of you _ace_ reporters has ever managed to discover the true identity of Superman?" The collected journalists' interests were suddenly piqued. "What would you say if I told you he was right here, right now, among you?"

Heads turned this way and that, everyone hoping to spot a red cape nearby, and when they saw none, their glances became suspicious as they realized Trask's implication. It wasn't hard to guess what they were all thinking: _It could be anyone._

Lois looked around too, her face drawn with concern. It was a shock to her as much as anyone that Superman was here this very moment, but at least she had been expecting to meet him today in the guise of a normal man.

Trask watched the journalists' expressions progressing from surprise to suspicion and smiled in satisfaction as one by one they turned to him, hungry for an answer, a revelation, and more than that, a story. The few photographers in the room had a firmer grip on their cameras now, and recording devices began to emerge from pockets in readiness. When all faces were finally turned to him and he knew he had them captivated, he raised his voice and his head, clearly addressing someone in the room, but not wishing to give away a location yet. For all that he was a military man, Clark found it hard to believe Trask had never been in show business.

"Superman!" He called, "You know who you are, and I think your fellow reporters would all appreciate you letting them in on your little secret. Or don't you trust your colleagues?" Trask knew that both as Clark and Superman, he had a profound respect for truth and his fellow man, and now played on his guilt at keeping his friends in the dark.

Above all, Clark cursed the awful timing of this showdown. It simply wasn't fair! He'd spent almost a year trying to work up the courage to revel himself to Lois, and last night's tender encounter had made his decision for him. He was going to tell her today! Maybe in the next hour his partner would have heard the truth from his own lips, he would have told her his reasons for deceiving her, asked forgiveness… If she found out this way, would she ever trust him again? Should she? He wondered if he should just whisper the words to her now, just so that she didn't think he had reneged on his promise.

"Why don't you come forward? Stop hiding!" Trask's imperious tone cut into Clark's thoughts, "Give yourself up! There's no escape now, no one's going anywhere till you show your face - your true face!"

Everyone was looking about again, staring intently at each of their colleagues in turn, and muttering fervent denial when someone else studied them in the same fashion.

_He's started a witch-hunt,_ thought Clark, _and it has to stop, but there's only one way..._ He drew himself up to face the event he had dreaded for much of his life. He would denounce himself as the alien in their midst--

"We've gotta take this nutcase down! Think, Clark!" Lois hissed beside him, "Maybe the fire alarm?"

It didn't seem strange to Clark that, with all the suspicious looks flying about the newsroom, Lois did not regard him with suspicion. His two identities were as different as they could possibly be, he'd made sure of that. In fact, none of his colleagues seemed to have considered him 'in the running' for being Superman. He was just that ordinary. Still, he was surprised that Lois wasn't as hungry for the revelation as their colleagues.

Lois _was_ hungry for the truth, in fact at that moment she was desperate to see his face, not because of her job, not because of their relationship, but here, now, she needed to warn him. He had promised her last night to show himself to her, but that was nothing compared to what she suspected was about to happen. Her sharp eyes had picked up something others might not have - the top right pocket of Trask's camo-jacket bulged with an irregular shape. For all the elaborate spectacle he was putting on, Lois knew the man simply wanted Superman dead, and any minute now he would decide to ditch the preamble and just use the rock.

As Lois continued to whisper about possible escape plans, Clark felt a peculiar swelling of pride that Lois could be such a true friend to Superman, that even when it went against her usual reporter's instincts and her personal feelings for him, she would put aside her wish to know his secret and concentrate on ending this fiasco. Unfortunately, it was already too late for that.

"Well, I guess we'll have to give our alien friend a bit of a nudge if you're to get your Pulitzers, won't we?" Trask announced with malicious glee. Lois nearly cried out as he reached into his pocket.

"I was interested to read in this morning's Daily Planet about the rock called Kryptonite. I'm honoured to be credited with its discovery." Trask sounded like he was giving an acceptance speech for a Nobel prize, "But I thought it would be nice if you could see it in action. So let's play an endurance game, shall we? Two minutes of exposure, and we'll see who falls. You up for it, Superman? Or will you give up now and save yourself the embarrassment?"

Anger flared in Lois' eyes and she pushed her way a little further towards the front. Clark followed automatically in his instinct to protect her from Trask, but belatedly realized he was also moving away from his hiding-place in the rear of the crowd.

"Oh, quit the theatrics _please_! You sound like a bad game-show host." Lois taunted him, with absolutely no idea what good it would do except buy Superman a little time to come up with something… super. "Maybe you should have gone into TV instead of the military, then maybe you'd understand that Superman isn't a dangerous alien for you to take out, he's hope for a city full of depressed people. _That's_ why he's in the papers--"

Trask cocked his gun, shutting up Lois' speech prematurely, "Perhaps you're right, Miss Lane. I should leave the drama to you people and do what I do best." His smile grew wider as he saw the sudden horror in Lois' eyes.

"_No_!" she cried as he snatched the lump of rock from his pocket, its green glow shining through his fingers.

The wave of pain hit Clark so unexpectedly that he could only barely conceal his reaction. He screwed his eyes up tightly and one hand flew to his stomach, but he remained upright and bore the sudden agony in silent rigidity, his pale face alone belying his condition.

The reporters looked around, their shrew eyes scrutinizing their nearest colleagues for signs of duress.

After a full minute, Clark's fixed mask was beginning to crack, and he lowered his head and swayed forwards involuntarily. Lois, just in front of him with her back turned, prevented him from falling and, wondering why Clark was leaning against her, turned to look into her partner's pained face.

Opening his eyes, he saw with somewhat blurred vision the questioning expression on her face, closely followed by dawning realization. Putting a hand gently on his upper arm to steady him, she cast a quick glance around and then whispered almost inaudibly,

"Clark! Don't tell me, after all this time..." but he wouldn't deny it now, even if he could gather his splintered thoughts enough to form a plausible excuse, there'd be no more lying from now on. Not to her, not to anyone.

Lois' chastisement was cut short as she saw the beads of sweat gathered on his brow and felt his trembling arm tense and spasm against the pain. "God, look at you! You're..." Clark closed his burning eyes again and nodded. Lois braced Clark upright with her hands on his arms, and at the same time tried to make the action as hidden as possible.

"This is _impossible_, Clark. You're imagining things!" There was desperation in her faint voice as she tried to explain away her partner's condition, but she knew it wasn't true even as she said it.

"Lois... I have to... have to get away from it, please..." Clark's hushed voice was becoming ragged and his breath came in snatched gasps. His eyes implored her, his best friend and so much more than that, to bail him out when even Superman was powerless to fight. Lois' brain, still reeling from the revelation of Clark's identity, dragged itself into coherence to run through the available evasive options, which, she found to her distress, were alarmingly few.

"Well, Miss Lane, we all knew you were close to Superman, but really..." Trask taunted her, drawing all eyes to where she stood supporting the rapidly degrading Clark, just as his weak legs gave way and he collapsed to the floor, accompanied by loud gasps from all over the room.

"Bring him out front." Trask gruffly ordered two of his men, who gave brief salutes to their commander then obediently waded through the gawping journalists to take hold of Clark's arms and drag him up the steps, depositing him unceremoniously on the landing.

"Don't--!" Lois began, pushing her way towards him so that she stood in the front row of the crowd, deterred from reaching him by the pair of armed men flanking his semi-conscious form.

"Don't what? Kill him?" Trask sounded incredulous. "Miss Lane, I'm removing an alien threat from your midst." The paranoid fanaticism Lois had seen him demonstrate back in Smallville was back, the act dropped. He looked from the suffering man at his feet to the crowd, his eyes earnest.

"Can any of you now deny that the person you all know as Clark Kent is not what he appears? He's been masquerading as one of us, hiding, waiting, gaining our trust as the heroic 'Superman', preparing the way for his people to move in on this planet and enslave the human race! Why else would he have a secret identity?"

"To protect himself from whackos like you!" Lois retorted, "Superman told us he's the last surviving one of his kind, and Clark..." Lois argument trailed off as she was again confronted by her own shock at finding out Clark's true identity.

Clark himself, meanwhile, was fading in and out of consciousness, hearing extracts of Trask's accusations but unable to answer the charges. Trask picked up where the irate Lois left off, moving to tower over his helpless captive.

"And Clark... well, let's have a little look-see shall we?" Bending down, he swatted away Clark's weakly defensive arms and snatched off the smart, metal-framed glasses which were the key feature of his disguise. He dropped them to the floor and casually crushed them under his boot. Next he ripped open Clark's white office shirt, tearing the material and sending buttons flying, to reveal the red and yellow 'S' symbol on Superman's uniform.

"This is your 'Super' man!" He announced grandiosely. "And you've all been so blind that you let him work right beside you, completely unaware as he studied you, gathered information and sent it back to his world! Maybe it's all of you that need glasses." He picked up the twisted frames and held them aloft triumphantly. "Now, aren't any of you going to take photos? After all, you've been so patient with me that I think you deserve this scoop."

At least five flashes went off before the yell came from the middle of the room.

"Hey, HEY! Cameras away people! Clark's still one of our own!" Perry's face still bore traces of the shock that had been similarly felt all over the room when Clark was dragged out front, but now he boiled with rage as Trask subjected his best reporter to this humiliation and continued torture with his still-exposed chunk of Kryptonite. He stalked up to the front of the room. "Get the HELL out of my newsroom," he growled menacingly, "And take that rock with you. If you ever come near Clark again, you won't be around to witness any so-called alien invasion, I promise you that."

Lois heard the steel in the editor's voice, but knew it was an empty threat. What could any of them do against a bunch of armed men? Only Superman could have saved them…

The Colonel was only amused by Perry's outburst, and with disgusting satisfaction he moved the Kryptonite closer to the suffering Clark, waving in front of his face like a baby's rattle, then pressing it into his limp hand. Within seconds, Clark's palm began to smoulder and he cried out once, but then quickly tensed and suppressed his forming screams, not willing to give Trask the satisfaction of hearing the Man of Steel beg.

Lois wiped the tears from her cheeks as she witnessed the atrocity. How long before he would lose consciousness, stop breathing? How long before Superman was murdered before her very eyes…?

Unexpectedly, Trask retrieved the glowing rock and deposited it back in his pocket. Clark let out the breath he had been holding against the pain and fainted. "I think that's enough for now," Trask said smugly, "It wouldn't do to destroy the only possible cure for the bio-warfare agent that his people have already inflicted upon our world."

"What?!" Lois' exclamation was the first one out.

"We'll know more once we get this alien into interrogation, but I want you all to take this down for your article: the one you call Superman is poison. I've tried to warn the Pentagon, the Department of Defence, the NSA, but they, like the rest of you idiots, have been seduced by his 'saviour' act! I tell you his very presence is toxic. The agent is slow to take effect, but it will, you'll see!"

The zeal in his eyes was truly frightening to behold. He made a curt gesture and all of the soldiers came from their places to join Trask on the balcony. Four seized Clark's arms and legs, preparing to haul the Man of Steel away.

He nodded at the cameraman, who quickly packed his equipment away.

"This tape will be on the news tomorrow at noon. You should thank me that I'm giving you a head start on the rest of the media. I think the Daily Planet should have the chance to explain how Superman came to be hiding in your ranks. Meanwhile _I_ shall be attempting to save the world from his pollution."

He waved a hand and the four soldiers hefted Superman between them and carried his unconscious form into the elevator. The other men followed, with Trask leaving last. The lift doors closed and the whole newsroom breathed as one, both relieved that the immediate danger was gone and appalled at the fate of the man who was both their friend and hero.

Lois' mind had virtually shut down with the shock of it. The tears ran freely, but she could not blink, could only stare at the doors of the elevator, numb. At the touch of Jimmy's hand on her shoulder she turned and sank against him, sobbing hysterically.

Perry was already on the phone, peering out of the window to try and see the vehicle that was stealing Clark away. He demanded the police, the FBI, a SWAT team, anything they could get to the Planet office inside of five minutes.

The editor's towering fury seemed to reach into Lois' fogged mind and pierce her with resolve. A second later she was running for the fire escape, followed by Jimmy.

_I'll get him back_, she told herself harshly. Without a plan, a weapon or any super powers to use in his rescue, she had only the breathless affirmation to cling to.

She burst out into the lobby like a missile, sprinting across the marble floor and flowing through the revolving doors like they weren't there.

Right there on the sidewalk was a black van, the kind of van that just screamed 'kidnapper'. She dashed over to it, heedless of the danger, and yanked the back door open.

A weight crashed into her from the side, throwing her to the ground as the van erupted in flames. She felt a wave of heat engulf her as her head struck the concrete.

**End of Part Two**


	3. Toxic

**Freedom Of The Press**

_Author's note:_ Thanks to everyone for being so patient with me. I'm being awfully slow at posting since I have very limited access to the internet these days… what can I say, I'm a penniless backpacker on the streets of Sydney!

_And an amendment to the Disclaimer_ - I still have no rights over "Lois and Clark" and all its supporting characters, but the reporters Samson, Farlecki and Evans are my own creations. Be nice to them!

Reviews are always appreciated!

**Part Three - Toxic**

Clark's head was banging repeatedly against the side of the van as it bounced and swerved along a dirt track. The instant he woke up he tried to x-ray through the metal and ascertain his location. Nothing. His powers were gone.

"He's awake, sir." A soldier sitting opposite him leaned forward to shout into the cab over the road-noise.

"Put him out then!" came Trask's brusque reply. The soldier raised the butt of his rifle and slammed Clark in the temple causing instant blackout.

* * *

Lois felt a wave of dizziness and pressed a hand against the reinforced glass window to steady herself. Perry's hand was on her shoulder in an instant.

"Lois, honey, you need to lie down. I'll let you know when there's any change." His tone was softly insistent, but Lois ignored him and continued to stare at the young man on the other side of the glass, strangled in a mass of wires and tubes.

'Severe injuries' was the only phrase they had gotten out of any doctor regarding Jimmy's condition. They refused to say whether he would live or die.

"He has to be okay…"

The guilt she'd been choking on ever since she woke up in the ER yesterday rose up again. She'd been patched up fairly quickly and dispatched to another ward to recover. She was the luckiest woman alive, they had told her; to have survived a bomb going off in her face and come out with only a concussion and some lacerations from flying debris.

But she wasn't lucky, was she? She was saved. Jimmy had knocked her to the ground, covering her with his body and taking the force of the blast. She hadn't even stopped to consider the danger of opening the van doors, and the young photographer had paid the price for her stupidity.

Bitterly she reminded herself that it was all so futile: her recklessness had hurt one of her closest friends, and she was still no closer to finding out what happened to Clark. _To Superman_… she wondered again at the strange reality of it. That day had started out with such delicious anticipation, the certainty that she would know her enigmatic hero as no one else in the world did, and that the sharing of his secret would lead to even more wonderful events. Even now she couldn't believe it had gone so wrong, with Trask choosing that day to play out his sick fantasies of alien invasion and make poor Clark the focus of his hate.

Despite the irrelevance of it now, it still grated at her that Clark had not revealed himself to her as he had promised. They'd been together all morning, and he could have taken any opportunity to talk to her alone. Perhaps he had gotten cold feet, decided that she wouldn't be able to remain his partner and be romantically involved too, and taken the coward's choice to stay just friends. Or maybe Superman had decided that he just couldn't trust an ambitious reporter with his secret identity.

For a full day of enforced bed-rest, when she'd had nothing to do but relive the events of the previous day in agonising slow-motion and analyze her feelings, Lois had wondered if she could ever truly be friends with Clark again. There was just too much to be dealt with: Hurt - yes, it did feel like a slap in the face that Clark had been playing her heart like a violin, being two people for whom her feelings were so different. After that came the anger that her best friend had made her feel like a fool, pointed out her own blindness and made her mentally review every conversation she'd ever had with him in either guise and realize what a hypocrite she'd been.

It would be difficult to forgive him for his deceit, and yet only half of her heart wanted to hold him in contempt. The other, more treacherously soft half remembered his tenderness; the way Clark, her brilliant and supportive partner, had quietly worshipped her while Superman saved her life innumerable times, but never treated her like another needy citizen.

And over it all was the heart-crushing knowledge that he was probably suffering as she had seen him suffer in the newsroom, the Kryptonite burning into his flesh as Trask tried to illicit a confession by torture. Tears filled her eyes again - she had cried too much in these last days. Clark, Jimmy… would she see either of them alive again?

Not unless she got out of this damned hospital and back on Trask's trail, she told herself firmly. She wiped her face on the sleeve of her baggy hospital gown and took a firm grip on her drip-stand. She needed to find a white-coat lackey to get this equipment off her so she could get out there and do her job.

Not for the first time, Perry watched the play of emotions on the face of his toughest reporter. Lois had been through as much as anyone could be expected to and keep their head on straight. She was still weak, though she wouldn't be persuaded to rest any longer, and now he saw that fierce determination in the set of her jaw and the way she stood straighter and looked about for someone to bark at. He couldn't help thinking she'd make a great editor some day.

"Lois," he began, and her look was a challenge. "There's fresh clothes in your room. I'll meet you in the foyer."

She thanked him with a grim smile and strode away, but not without a last, anguished look at Jimmy and a silent plea that he would pull through.

* * *

The Daily Planet was a circus. With no Perry there to command the newsroom and the eyes of the world on them, the reporters were beginning to crack under the pressure of finding _themselves_ the target of media frenzy. Not a copy-boy arrived at work unaccosted by rival journalists desperate to interview the colleagues of Superman. Trask had been true to his word and sent the video of Clark's unmasking to Channel Nine the following day. It had gone to air at noon. By two there was a crowd of people large enough to stop traffic outside the Planet building, all demanding to speak to Lois Lane, to Perry and anyone else who knew Clark. They wanted to know where the Man of Steel had been taken, and what this Trask person had meant when he mentioned bio-warfare.

Samson, a fairly level-headed reporter who usually covered local government stories, took it upon himself to step into the breach, declaring himself temporary acting-editor of the Daily Planet in an attempt to avoid potential embarrassment for the paper. He issued a general memo that no employee was to make any on-the-record comments to any other media personnel. Whatever position the Planet was taking on this, it was Perry White's call, whenever the Chief chose to turn up again, and in the meantime it was all about damage-control. 'No comment' was the only phrase which wouldn't subject the paper's staff to accusations of withholding information or just plain stupidity.

For himself, Samson had had very little contact with Clark Kent since the green reporter had turned up at the Planet and shot quickly from nobody to headliner. It could be said that Samson was jealous of Kent's whirlwind success, and the sudden revelation of the farm-boy's identity did little to assuage his bitterness. It felt like a stab in the back by a fellow media professional to keep something this newsworthy a secret, and all the while use it to further his own career. So many of Kent's headlines were about Superman, his insider information frequently raising questions about why the elusive hero had singled him out as a confidante. And so much for his talents as an investigative reporter, using his super powers to discover things no other reporter had a chance at. It was cheating, plain and simple.

But none of that mattered now. Clark was gone, Lois Lane was injured and that Olsen kid was fighting for his life at Metro General. Samson was in charge, at least for the time being, and he was the first one to hear the news of the infection.

_Superman is poison_, the nasty sonofabitch from the government had said. But being sadistic and paranoid didn't necessarily mean he was wrong…

* * *

Clark was blind. It was a completely new experience for him, to be trapped in the dark with no recourse to his enhanced eyesight, and it terrified him. He had been beaten unconscious twice more before they stopped the jolting vehicle and manhandled him into this pit of blackness. When they dumped him unceremoniously on the floor, he heard Trask's scathing tone.

"What a pathetic specimen. Ha! To think that your kind could ever be a threat to _us_! The human race can and will destroy all comers! Now we just have to wait till your backup arrives, and then we'll show you freaks the military might of this backwater planet!"

"You'll be waiting a long time, Trask." Clark replied quietly, and received only a snort of derision from his captor.

He heard a heavy door swing shut with a metallic clang and a lock engaging. It was nothing he couldn't bust out of, just as soon as his powers returned. It was only a matter of time, he told himself.

That was hours ago, perhaps even a day or more in this timeless darkness. He began to question, as he had that first time back in Smallville, whether his abilities were gone for good. What if he was just a normal man now, with no alien army coming to his rescue, just a delusional colonel and a never-ending prison sentence?

He thought of Lois, of what she might be doing right now. He had faith in her tenacity both as a reporter and as someone who cared about him - she'd be calling in every favour, pulling out all the stops to track him, to save him.

She was magnificent. A high-maintenance, supercilious pit-bull of a journalist, and a sensitive, heart-melting goddess of a woman all rolled into one. What he wouldn't give to be back in her apartment right now, picking up where they left off the other night. Now that she knew who he was…

Yes, she knew, but so did the rest of the world, and God only knew what they now thought of their hero. Their pillar of truth and justice was a liar, a coward hiding behind his colours, afraid to compromise his comfortable little life for the sake of honesty. Even if Trask could never have the intergalactic war he desired, he'd already dealt a serious blow to the alien he so hated by undermining the world's trust in him.

A sound in the darkness. A barely perceptible lightening of the space around him. Suddenly Clark could make out the walls of his cell, see the size of the space he was confined in. It was a good thing he wasn't claustrophobic. But a strange nausea accompanied the change in light-level. A roiling, gurgling sickness in the pit of his stomach. What was going on?

He strained to see the source of the light, and realised that what had seemed to him only as an end to pitch blackness was in fact a green emanation from a tiny slit in the wall. Green, sure, but where was the searing pain he'd come to associate with Kryptonite? This greenness floated, drifted, encircled him, touched his flesh.

_Gas_. Somehow Trask's minions had formulated the deadly substance into a gas! He held his breath, but only for as long as an ordinary man might. A few minutes and he was forced to take a breath of the noxious fumes.

As he breathed, tense, waiting for the effects to hit him, a voice issued from a speaker he couldn't see.

"Our interrogation begins, Superman." It was not Trask. This voice was higher, softer. A woman's voice, accented heavily with Czech, he thought.

"What do you want to know?" Clark retorted as defiantly as he could manage.

"How old are you?"

It was an odd question, and it threw him off his guard a little. He had been expecting accusations of spying, of being part of some grand invasion force…

"I said, 'how old are you?'"

"I'm not sure. I believe I'm twenty-eight." What could that possibly gain them?

"What is your basis for such an assumption?"

"I don't know how long it took for me to reach Earth. I was around one when I arrived."

"The Kents told you this?"

It was like a slap in the face. The mere mention of his parents made his blood run cold. Were they prisoners too? Were they undergoing some tortuous interrogation at the same time?

"Where are they?!" Clark shrieked.

"Not here, Clark." His name sounded like a rebuke in her foreign brogue. "They are hiding, but rest assured we will bring them to you."

At this he clawed himself to his feet, rage flaring up in him, but just as quickly knocked down by a wave of overpowering nausea. He saw a wash basin, barely visible in the gloom, and crawled toward it, gagging.

"The gas is most effective, yes?"

"If you want me d-dead," Clark choked out, "Why all the pointless questions?"

"Oh it is not deadly in these proportions, but will keep you weak enough to be of use to me. Don't worry, Superman. There _is_ a point. We need to know how long you have been on our planet, how long the toxin takes to manifest symptoms."

"What toxin?" Clark thought he'd heard Trask mention poison, but couldn't decide if in his half-faint he had just imagined it. Even then he assumed it was a lie to raise public fear of him, but now they were actually researching it?

"Only a small number of cases, so far," the Czech woman replied, "But we are sure this is because the agent lies dormant for a time. Your alien scientists found a most cunning delivery method - having you infect the very people you save!"

"It's not true!" Clark cried, more to reassure himself than to convince the voice on the other side of the wall. Fear began to gnaw at him; what if they were right? If he was patient zero for a deadly virus, he may have spread it to almost everywhere on the globe! What if he _was_ some kind of Kryptonian living-missile to wipe out the population and prepare the planet for re-colonization? He knew little enough about his origins to make Trask's ludicrous-sounding theory begin to be plausible.

"We shall see, now sleep…" the voice replied coldly, and the amount of sickening green gas in the room increased, hissing through slits in the wall and filling the space.

* * *

The elevator wooshed softly as it rose up the floors of the Planet building. Perry steeled himself as the doors to opened onto his newsroom, expecting to have a fight on his hands to get his paper and his disorganised staff back on track.

He stopped short, Lois nearly bumping into the back of him. There was hardly a soul on the floor.

"Where the hell is everybody?!" he barked at a girl changing over the coffee-pot.

"Staff meeting, sir!" she squeaked, pointing at the conference room.

Perry and Lois looked at each other in surprise and went over to let themselves in the back of the packed room.

"Farlecki, where are we on the explosion? You got an owner of that van yet? 'Cause Miss Lane and Olsen are going Page Two whenever we get the SWAT report on that…" Samson was booming at the assembled reporters, his eyes scanning sheet after sheet of agenda notes, "And Evans, what the hell are you doing here? I thought I told you to start on Kent's list of burglary-sites! Who's on the disease statistics? I want graphics--!"

"Chief!" a photographer at the back of the room exclaimed as Perry shoulder-barged his way in.

The reporters parted as best they could to let the editor through. Samson looked suddenly flustered, going quite a bit paler as Perry glared at him.

"Who's on local government while you're up here playing top-dog?" the Chief growled.

"I, err, well there's not much going on there at the mo--" he began haltingly.

"S'alright, son I'm just pokin' fun," Perry punched Samson lightly on the shoulder, relaxing his terrifying scowl into a smirk. "Somebody had to grab the reins in here - good job. Initiative! That's what I like to see! Now, I want to know everything."

He raised his voice to the assembled reporters, "Everyone else, back to whatever Samson put you on! Get!" The people left in a purposeful flurry.

Samson took a calming breath and started to deliver his report.

* * *

Lois' gaze swept down the list of names and addresses with incredulity. This was absurd, that she could actually be holding a piece of evidence that Superman was a threat to the people of Earth.

Samson had repeated the phone call he'd received from his personal source inside the Department of Health detailing the outbreak of a brand new disease. So far the symptoms were similar to radiation poisoning, but doctors could not say how the condition would progress, nor find a specific source of infection.

For all that his usual work mostly involved summarising long-winded speeches and putting some punch into dreary local politics, Samson had proved himself a most able investigative reporter over the last two days. The moment he got wind of the problem, he had remembered the words of Colonel Trask as he dragged away the newly unmasked Clark Kent. The idea that Superman's presence may have in some way caused this disease led Samson to cross check the victims against the known activities of the Man of Steel. When that turned up nothing useful, he turned his search parameters to the human face of the hero, with much more solid results: these sick people had _all_ known Kent, his neighbour, his friend, someone he interviewed…

Lois scanned down to the bottom of the list, to her own name. She knew she had had more contact with Superman than almost anyone else in the world, and now found herself wondering if in the next hours or days she too would start to display signs of the sickness. She shook her head firmly - she mustn't start to think this way, mustn't be drawn in by Trask's paranoia.

"Chief!" the yell flowed past Lois as Farlecki jogged through the newsroom, avoiding the sharp corners of desks with practised grace. Lois followed as the lanky New Yorker barged into the editor's office without invitation.

"What in the Sam Hill--"

"The van, sir, that exploded!" Farlecki's exclamation cut off Perry's outburst. "It was leased two weeks ago by an Eastern European pharmaceutical company, 'Chemkya'. There's details of it being licensed to transport laboratory samples and chemicals."

"What do we know about this company?"

"That's the best part, chief," Farlecki's eyes glowed with the discovery, "It's HQ is in Prague, but they have a lab and offices right here in Metropolis."

"LOIS!" Perry bellowed, although he needn't have done because she was standing just outside the door. She stepped in quickly.

"Good work, Farlecki. Keep at it - I want known associates of this company, what projects they're working on, the works. Lois, get down to this lab, and here," Perry opened a small cupboard to one side of his desk, took out a flak-jacket and passed it across to her. "Can't be too careful. They already tried to blow you up."

Lois nodded grimly, but at this point she hardly cared about the danger to herself. This was her first real link to whoever might have Clark. She shrugged on the vest and headed for the elevator.

* * *

Josh Evans sat at a red traffic light, his eyes on the seat next to him, where the list of break-ins sat. He'd visited five of the homes now, the first four of which had been empty, but that hadn't really been a problem.

Fairly new to the Daily Planet, Josh knew he'd never make a name for himself by letting these little obstacles stop him from conducting his investigation. He'd picked up a few neat tricks from Jimmy Olsen about breaking and entering. They were the same age and had made friends right away, with Evans often tagging along on Jimmy's photo-gathering missions. Now he had the confidence to get into an apartment with almost no effort, and no trace that he was ever there. He could have become an excellent thief if he weren't so passionate about investigative journalism.

So far the apartments had not turned up much in the way of solid leads, since the owners had obviously cleaned up the mess made during the break-ins, but he'd been able to confirm that they were from all walks of life, all lived in Metropolis for different lengths of time and of varying ages. These people couldn't have less in common, but they had all met Clark Kent, just the one time, according to 'temporary acting-editor' Samson's information. The most frightening fact was that in the last day they had all been admitted to Metropolis General Hospital exhibiting symptoms of what Samson had called 'Super-sickness'. But so far, Josh had been unable to find any direct relation between the violation of these poor people's homes and their subsequent illness. He'd looked for rotting foodstuffs, any conspicuous-looking houseplants, even checked their air-conditioner filters for signs of tampering. Nothing. He needed to talk to one of these victims!

Luckily, the owner of the fifth house had been in. The old man had looked half-dead, white as a sheet and breathless. Josh told the man about the new disease and urged him to get himself to a doctor, but the stubborn old coot swore it was just a bit of bad sushi he ate and said he'd be right as rain in the morning. The trembling pensioner had been able to recognise a photo of Clark Kent, though, quickly launching into the story of a furniture removals accident... It only confirmed two things the young reporter already knew - one, old people were terminally annoying, and two, these burglaries were somehow at the heart of all that had gone on with Clark and his secret.

Evans had been at the front of the crowd right next to Jimmy during the abrupt takeover of the newsroom. Of course he had been winded with shock to find that 'CK' as he'd come to call him, was really Superman. But worse than that was the look he had seen in Clark's eyes as Trask ripped open his white shirt. He looked broken, ready to surrender. Evans had been as awed and enthralled by Superman as the rest of the city, and that expression of hopelessness was such a horrible thing to behold on the face of the greatest hero the world had ever known.

That's why Evans was out here, in the rush-hour traffic, determined to visit every single home on CK's list and find every scrap of information he could. Jimmy had already taken a serious hit for this case, and Josh was going to make sure his friend's deeds weren't for nothing. Something would turn up to tie it all together: Trask, Superman, the burglaries, the disease…

As his mind tried to sort through all the facts, to see the connections, the traffic light turned green. Evans stared at it, knowing he should go, but he was so tired. So very tired, all of a sudden. _No_, he shook himself, _I have to visit every one of them…_

But his head drooped to the steering wheel and the angry beeps coming from behind him were joined by a continuous one.

**End of Part Three**


	4. Science Project

**FREEDOM OF THE PRESS**

**Part Four - Science Project**

Clark groaned as he stretched out his leg painfully. He'd been curled up against the wall in his tiny cell for too long, and still the gas leeched out of vents in the concrete, making him queasy and weak as a kitten.

Dejectedly he wondered if there would be long-term effects from this continued exposure to a form of Kryptonite, not that it mattered if, as he suspected, Trask was eventually going to tire of this science project and simply kill him.

_Maybe that's best_, he thought, _If I really am poisonous._

As he had done for days now, he mentally reviewed all the people whose lives he had saved, wondering if now they were doomed because of his touch. Of course he cared about every one of them, but three lives stood out from the multitude; three who had been around him more than anyone else, three he loved more than his own life.

_Mom, Dad… Lois._

Would they suffer? Or was this the kind of toxin that simply killed, quietly and painlessly, like morphine?

Usually he would have been fighting to keep his spirits up, to be strong, to believe in Right and Good and True, but he'd been alone in the dark for ages, with only the woman's voice periodically cutting into his melancholy to order that he move to the door and bare his arm. A needle would spring out, slipping effortlessly into his vulnerable flesh and taking his alien blood away up a tube for study.

Clark had come to the optimistic belief that the woman was not all bad; certainly she didn't seem to fit in with Trask's despicable lot. She talked to him at least, and she certainly didn't _have_ to keep him informed on the progress of her investigation. She spoke clearly, without malice or sarcasm, no taunts or threats, just neutrality. It was her very matter-of-fact manner which had led him into his current state of despair. If this whole 'poison' thing were a ruse to torment him or guilt-trip him into giving information he would have picked up on it. Superman was not easily lied to.

No, the scientist was truly researching the effects of his presence on the human population, and she had received frequent reports from Metropolis General hospital about the patients who had been admitted in the last couple of days.

She had told him of the twenty people who lay dying because of their contact with him, and asked him how he knew each of them. Clark told her of his move to Metropolis, how he had helped people subtly and secretively before the colourful hero was born and he was free to display his abilities. The sick people had met him then, not recently, and the scientist had found it interesting that the toxin had taken this long to effect the victims, and that they had all manifested the symptoms within a few days of each other. As far as any physician could make out, the people were suffering from radiation poisoning, and not, as previously suspected, some kind of transmissible virus. This lightened the weight on Clark's heart a little, for even those these poor folk may be doomed, the rest of the planet who hadn't been in contact with him were safe.

As long as Clark left Earth.

The scientist had mentioned this painful necessity in passing. One morning; Clark knew it was morning because the meal they fed him was some kind of bland cereal as opposed to the indeterminate meat-slop they fed him at night; the woman's exotic accent had drifted into his cell and casually informed him that one of the ill people had passed away in the night. She was a 78 year old woman Clark had saved from a car accident three years ago. The radiation sickness was too much for her frail body to recover from.

In anguish Clark apologised again and again, crying out for a solution, unable to bear that he was causing pain and death.

"Well, you cannot stay here." It was said so flatly it chilled Clark's heart to hear it. He must leave his home, his parents, Lois…

Hours later he was still absorbed in that grim possibility when he heard a click outside the door. It hadn't been opened once since he arrived! He struggled to his feet, every muscle groaning, a hope surging in his heart that he might be allowed to walk outside for a moment perhaps, or maybe even released on the condition that he quit this planet for good.

A moment later his hope died as he was greeted by the familiar sneer of Colonel Trask.

"How's the pet alien today, then?" he taunted, "Behaving yourself?"

"Where've you been off to Trask? Hunting more of 'my kind'?" Clark retorted bitterly.

"Oh no, in fact I've been hunting mine. The human traitors who kept you here, letting you fly around spreading your toxic radiation over the whole world."

Clark's stomach clenched in fear. Had Trask got his parents?

"I tracked them to a ranch in Montana, but they seem to be almost as good at hiding as you are, _Mr. Kent_. So I thought I'd come and have a chat with you about where they might run to--"

Clark braced himself for a hit of the Kryptonite which he knew Trask would have concealed on his person. The torture was about to begin…

"Colonel," Trask's crackling radio distorted the scientist's voice, "There is a reporter at the front gate. Remember this is just a lab, if we turn her away it looks suspicious."

Trask threw Clark a significant look, "It wouldn't be Lois Lane, by any chance?"

"Yes sir."

"Come looking for her lover, huh? Welcome her in, Doctor, and say all the right things, won't you?"

Clark could hear the woman's uncomfortable huff on the other end. He got the feeling she was not used to covert operations and lying to the media.

"I think I'll settle in for a while," Trask said, banging briefly on the door for a guard, who passed him in a folding chair, "I don't think Miss Lane would be so happy to see me here."

He made himself comfortable, ignoring Clark's piercing stare of hatred.

* * *

"Look, I'm _not_ leaving till I see someone in that lab!" Lois tone brooked no opposition. "And put the gun down, you look ridiculous."

The guard on the front gate was just 19 years old, but his young face bore a determined scowl as he held his pistol out before him. He was under orders from someone much more important than this irritating reporter, someone who might very possibly have him posted to a base in Uzbekistan if he failed in his duty.

"With respect, Ma'am, you're in for a long wait. No one is permitted inside the facility without papers."

"Well, I _am_ the papers, so that works."

"I'm sorry, but--" the Corporal's radio crackled and mumbled something Lois couldn't make out, but she was surprised to hear that it was a woman giving the orders.

"Ma'am, could you repeat that?" the soldier turned away briefly, then back to Lois with a frown that was almost petulant.

"Dr. Slomowitz wishes to see you Miss Lane." His tone was dead-pan, like he hadn't been arguing with her for the past twenty minutes. Lois's answering 'thank you' was nothing if not smug.

The young man led her through a series of security gates and sealed doors into an office which looked like it was hardly ever used. No stacks of papers, no desktop PC, a fake pot-plant. Behind the empty desk sat a woman around Lois' age, her hands folded in front of her, her expression coolly confident.

_Like she's got nothing to hide_, Lois thought, _or wants me to believe that anyway_.

"Miss Lane, from the Daily Planet, yes?" she rose and extended her hand. Lois took it, still subtly assessing the woman's body language at every moment, looking for the chink in the armour.

"Yes, Dr…? Sorry, I didn't catch the name, Sl- Slomo…?"

"Call me Katia, please."

"Okay, Katia, I'll get right to the point. Are you aware there was an explosion outside the Daily Planet building two days ago?"

"I think I heard something about it on the television, yes."

"A colleague of mine was hurt badly when a black van blew up, a van leased by your company." Lois tried to keep her tone neutral - she was here to interview, not to accuse, but right now her fear for Jimmy's life was threatening to turn her journalistic calm into a torrent of anger, especially when the doctor was being so blatantly evasive.

"I am sorry to hear it, Miss Lane, but I did not plant any bombs, I assure you."

"Just what kind of samples were being carried in this van anyway?"

"Well, we move the chemicals necessary for our research from their import warehouse to the lab, but none of them are dangerous or explosive. We would require much more complicated permits for that."

Lois sensed that this line of questioning wasn't going to get her anywhere. Instead, she tried another tack, watching Katia's face closely for an initial reaction which was the only grain of truth she was likely to get out of this meeting.

"And Superman?"

As Lois suspected, there was the briefest flicker of fear in the scientist's eyes at the mention of his name before the expected response.

"What about him?"

"It was your van that exploded. Makes sense that another of your vehicles took him away. Or was it one of Trask's trucks?"

Again a flash of recognition quickly suppressed told Lois that Katia was indeed working with the military nutcase. Lois' heartbeat quickened. Superman could be here, somewhere in this building…

Katia's expression quickly reverted to the 'brick wall' look.

"Miss Lane, this lab exists to try and find new cures and treatments for certain diseases. We are not interested in Superman or what may have happened to him since the fiasco at the Daily Planet. Now would you please leave me to my work."

Lois glared at the woman, a look that said she plainly didn't believe a word of it, and turned to go.

* * *

The media circus was on the move. After camping out at the Daily Planet following the news that mild-mannered reported Clark Kent was really the city's own superhero, their priorities suddenly changed when two events occurred in quick succession. At 8am, an unidentifiable disease which had recently put around twenty citizens into Intensive Care claimed its first life. The doctors were being very tight-lipped, saying only that cause of the old woman's death was a mystery at the moment.

Then, at noon the same day, another young reporter from the Planet was rushed into the ER with similar symptoms to the diseased. In the young man's car was a sheaf of notes from a case he was working on, and thus the news was broken that Josh Evans had been researching, and was now the newest case of 'super-sickness'.

Of course, everyone had heard the cryptic accusation made by the fanatical Colonel Trask that Superman's race had launched some kind of biological weapon against Earth, but it was not generally believed until these notes came to light.

Suddenly news channels were eagerly putting out the theory that anyone who had ever had any contact with Superman or his private persona, Clark Kent, might soon feel the effects of this new disease. Metro General's phones were quickly jammed with the flood of calls from frightened citizens, and the ER was crowded with people fearing for their lives.

The press, too, were now crammed into every available waiting area at the hospital, and causing a massive nuisance by asking non-stop questions of every doctor and interviewing those who had turned up in a panic.

Back at the Planet, Perry White stared at a headline he prayed he wouldn't have to send to press. This morning's had been, "MYSTERY ILLNESS CLAIMS FIRST LIFE", as Perry had refused to do what all the other papers had done and run the accusation that Superman was poison to the human race. Despite the evidence which seemed to be pointing to that conclusion, the editor knew in his gut that something untoward was going on in the city, and that the fickle public's sudden anger at the hero they loved three days ago was all part of Trask's plan.

That said, he wasn't going to be caught unprepared should the awful suspicion prove true. The headline before him was a much less pleasant, "SUPERMAN CAUSE OF SICKNESS".

He shook his head.

"Where the hell are you, Kent?" he muttered.

* * *

Dr. Katia Slomowitz hunched over her microscope again. The blood sample she squinted at only confounded her all the more. This slide had been rushed to her forty minutes ago, shortly after she had seen the Channel Nine news coverage of a new victim in this strange case.

This problem was that this victim completely invalidated her theory. So far all the sufferers of the disease, which she believed was being caused by the dejected alien she had in a cell three floors down, had presented with symptoms at around the same time, and all had met Clark Kent within six months of each other, before he even introduced himself to the world as Superman.

This new case, a Daily Planet reporter, had not even met Kent until this year, and as far as anyone knew, he had never been in contact with Superman.

"Kurva drt!" she swore at the sample. Why did it all have to go wrong now?

"Language, Doctor!" Trask's chiding tone drifted over to her from the door.

Katia looked up. The man had a smile on his face like a child with a new toy. She noticed the bloodstains on a handkerchief poking out from his top pocket and the obvious bulge of Kryptonite in his lower pocket. Silently she swallowed a wave of hatred for the sadistic bastard. Superman was helping with the investigation willingly; there was no need to beat any information out of him… but then, Katia knew that Trask didn't really care for anything the alien had to say.

"This latest case is anomalous, Colonel," She explained coolly, "The incubation period of the disease is inconsistent. In this latest victim, just a year, but what about Mr. and Mrs. Kent? They have been around Superman for twenty-seven years - they should be dead by now! This does not make sense!"

"I'm still searching for the Kents, but don't worry, I'll get them. I suspect they're probably aliens too; immune to the disease. Just keep working, Doctor. I'm sure you'll figure it out. And don't forget, when Superman is proven to be the source of the disease, you'll be generously rewarded for exposing this threat to the world!"

Katia glared at him, at his gloating grin, his malicious eyes. "By that you mean you won't have me deported and ruin my company?"

"I'm a generous man, Katia. Not everyone would put his military reputation on the line to bail out an illegal immigrant. Chemkya does good work, but Uncle Sam likes to see paperwork, remember?"

He smiled cruelly and swept out of the room, leaving Katia fuming. Six years she'd been living in the US, praying that her luck would hold, that her faked citizenship documents and pharmaceutical licence wouldn't be scrutinized too closely. Now thanks to Trask she was in way over her head, involved in kidnapping and much worse if Lois Lane's accusation about the exploding van was correct. Katia believed as much. Trask held the reins of her whole company now. Easy for him to take her van and use it to create more chaos. She dropped her head into her hands, wishing there was a way out of all of this.

There was, in fact, and he was sitting down below, presumably badly injured from Trask's beating. Superman could fix all this…

But the scientist in her couldn't let go of the puzzle at hand. What was this damned sickness? How did the alien effect these people? She had to know!

Grabbing her keys, she headed for the elevator.

* * *

Superman lay curled up in the middle of his cell, his head still pounding, his nose bleeding slightly less profusely now. He cradled his left hand protectively against his chest, the broken fingers sending spikes of pain up his arm.

He heard the door lock click again. Was Trask back for another round? He almost didn't care. There was no way he was giving up any information on his parents, no matter what was done to him.

"My God--" the gasp came from the door. Superman raised his head painfully and opened his eyes a crack.

The woman whose voice he had heard so frequently stepped quickly to his side and crouched down to wipe the blood from his face.

"Nice to meet you at last," Clark said, his voice cracking slightly.

"I'm Katia. I just came to ask you some questions." She helped Clark sit up and move over to rest against the wall of the cell.

"Why are you here in person this time? Has something happened? Did anyone else… die?"

Katia was amazed that he was still concentrating on the wellbeing of the sick people, even in his current condition. She knew she was not supposed to share any information with the alien - he was a prisoner, a study subject. But something about this whole outbreak scenario wasn't panning out right. She needed clarification, and for some reason Superman was the only one she felt able to communicate honestly with. He wasn't a maniac controlling her with threats, nor a reporter or official she had to keep secrets from.

Taking a deep breath, she sat down on the floor in front of him.

"Superman," she began haltingly.

"Please, call me Clark." He was still wearing his now very disgusting office attire after all.

"Alright, Clark. I will tell you everything I can and hope that you can help me."

Clark sat up straighter, ignoring the stab of pain it cost him to do so. He could see the eyes of this woman, and they shone with an earnest desire to put things right.

"The people who are sick in the hospital, they knew you a long time ago, maybe three years ago, correct?"

Clark nodded.

"But now there is this man Evans--"

"Josh Evans?" Clark interrupted, and at Katia's affirmative nod he felt another wave of sadness and guilt.

"This is why I am, how do you say, 'stumped' by this. So far Evans is more badly effected than any of the others! And to make matters worse, the press are now aware of the whole situation, causing a panic."

"What tipped them off?"

"The reporter had notes about some burglaries, and the link to you, I don't fully understand it…"

Clark did. A germ of an idea, a suspicion was dawning in his still splintered thoughts. The investigative reporter in him awoke, started to see connections, form conclusions…

"He must have been following up on my work. Before…" Clark shied away from even mentioning that traumatic afternoon when Trask exposed him to the world, "Before I was bought here, Lois and I were on our way to visit a list of addresses, all people I knew years ago, and I'll bet that those people _are_ the infected people! So if Josh has been to each of their homes and then quickly fallen ill..."

"Then the toxin could be environmental, something in you that remained at these locations..." Katia finished for him.

"But, if it's environmental, then it might not be anything to do with me, but just made to look that way. By Trask." Clark said grimly, finally seeing the intricacy of the maniac's plan.

"Either way, I must go and find this substance." Katia said determinedly and rose to leave.

"Lois!" Clark blurted suddenly. The scientist turned to face him, puzzled.

"Call Lois, she can confirm the theory, because if it's contact with me that is toxic then she would be the worst effected! If not, then we know that I'm not the cause!"

"So you are lovers, then?"

Katia's comment caught Clark completely by surprise. He blushed bright red in an instant and began to bluster out an answer, but Katia cut him off with a wave of her hand and a sly smile.

"I thought as much. I will call her."

"Katia," Clark stopped her leaving a second time, "You gonna let me out of here?" He circled a hand, indicating the faint green gas that hung in the atmosphere. He'd endured its effects for so long now that it no longer sickened him, but he was only as strong as an ordinary man.

"I cannot. If Trask came back and found you gone, he would kill me, I am certain of it! Also, we do not know for sure if you are not the one causing the sickness. You may still be dangerous."

"You're in here with me," Clark pointed out, "Aren't you afraid for your own life?"

Katia looked a little confounded by that, but headed quickly to the door, pulling it firmly closed on her way out and ignoring Clark's shout of protest.

**End of Part Four**


	5. Something In The Air

**FREEDOM OF THE PRESS**

**Part Five - Something In The Air**

Lois sat at her desk, staring at the pages of notes arrayed all around her, but not really seeing them. Her mind was too absorbed in a mixture of impotent rage and anxiety to concentrate on the task at hand.

_Snap out of it, Lois!_ She reprimanded herself sternly. She had to focus, to find the connections, to get to the bottom of the case instead of worrying about Clark and formulating half-baked rescue attempts in her mind. She was almost certain he was imprisoned somewhere within the Chemkya facility, but the security was tight and that infuriating scientist was not going to let her in a second time.

Belatedly she wished she had somehow distracted Dr. Slomowitz enough to steal some of her papers: maybe would have enough evidence to call in some police support…

Her mind was wandering to the 'should-haves' and the 'what-ifs' again, and she rose angrily to pace the bit of newsroom she called her own, forcing herself to take calming breaths, to clear her mind.

She was about ready to return to her papers when a polite cough startled her, and she looked up in to the face of Dr. Slomowitz!

"What are you doing here?" she blurted, before regaining her composure.

"Miss Lane, I came to enquire after your health." Katia began formally, but then lowered her voice, "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

Lois knew immediately that the woman was jittery, anxious about coming forward with information - she'd seen it a hundred times. Some sources needed to be coddled, made to feel safe…

Lois led the doctor into the conference room, and closed the blinds.

"You got something for me?" Lois prompted.

"That depends on what you can give me. I want to find the cause of this sickness--"

"Ah! I _knew_ you were researching that!" Lois exclaimed.

"Correct, Miss Lane, but now I find you can be of help to me. You do not appear to be suffering from this condition, despite your intimacy with Superman."

It was Lois' turn to blush. How did the scientist know about _that_? Katia went on.

"And this leads me to believe that your colleague Mr. Evans was exposed not through contact with Mr. Kent, but by visiting the homes of the victims. You still have the list that you were working on a few days ago? Take me to these sites."

She tapped a small hard case she was carrying and Lois guessed that it was some kind of equipment for analysis.

Lois looked sternly at the scientist. She knew the woman was not telling her everything, that she was probably in league with Bureau 39 and there was absolutely no cause to trust her. But right now she was the best possible lead in finding Clark.

"I'll get my coat."

* * *

"Why won't you people just leave me alone?" the old man's voice was low and croaky, his lined face only half-visible as he peered over the door-chain at Lois.

"I've been harassed enough! I'm 82 years old you know!"

"I know that Mr. Mestre, but if we could just come in for a few minutes, please! It's very important - we're checking for gas leaks."

The elderly man huffed his annoyance, shut the door and opened it fully, allowing Lois and Katia to step inside with a scowl. Both looked ridiculous in their oversized haz-mat suits which the doctor had brought along with her.

"I told the police, I told that reporter kid yesterday and I'll tell you now: I don't want to be bothered any more. I'm not sick, I just ate some bad sushi! I feel fine now!"

Katia began walking around, holding a Geiger-counter out before her and scrutinising the readouts, while Lois held the man's attention.

"We're sorry for the inconvenience, but really this is very important. You see the whole neighbourhood has to be checked after problem with the supply line. You should definitely make an appointment with your doctor too."

"I was at the hospital yesterday and they told me I was perfectly alright!"

"You went to the hospital?"

"I go three times a week, for dialysis."

Katia appeared from around the corner and hurried up to them.

"All finished, sir. We will leave you alone now, but we are arranging an air-filtration unit for all the houses in this block. This should prevent any future problems. Thank you for your time." Katia ushered Lois out the door.

"So what d'you find?" Lois asked eagerly, as soon as they were out in the hallway.

"There is radiation in there, quite dangerous."

"We should get him out of there!"

"As I said, I will arrange for a clean-up, but he will be alright. He is not sick like the others because of his dialysis. I believe all the addresses that were broken into have been irradiated."

"But my apartment was broken into too. How come I'm okay?"

Fifteen minutes later the yellow-clad pair entered Lois' apartment, and Katia began scanning again. Lois wandered into the bedroom, her mind instantly flying back to that night - before all hell broke loose, when there was only the passion and the thrill of being held by Superman…

"This is strange," Katia mumbled, cutting into Lois' sweet thoughts. "The radiation is present here, but at a much reduced level, almost as though it's been absorbed by something. It's the kind of technology I could bring in, but--"

"Superman!" Lois exclaimed, suddenly understanding. "He came to visit right after I was burgled. He cleaned up my place."

"And he must have drawn the radiation into himself in the same way he draws his power from the sun."

Lois was about to ask how Katia knew that about him, but there was a knock at the door. She opened her door to a microphone and a news camera, with two or three more reporters crowding in behind with their dictaphones held aloft.

"Miss Lane, are you sick yet? You're on the list, Miss Lane, and you're closer to Superman than anyone! Aren't you going to go to the hospital?"

As the questions came thick and fast, Katia came up behind Lois, de-suited and carrying her sample case.

"I'm going back to my lab to run some tests on this gas." The scientist began to push through the reporters and out.

"Wait! Katia, where is he?! I know you've got him!" Lois tried to catch Katia, but her voice was drowned out by the questions and the doctor hurried away, with her head down. Lois cursed as she was left to fend off the eager journalists.

* * *

Katia stared at the screen before her; an array of numbers and spikes on a graph. The sample of atmospheric gas which she had taken at Mr. Mestre's apartment was reading as a mixture of radon and some other element which could not be identified, and she'd run the test six times now.

_Where have I seen these readouts before?_ She rolled her chair over to a tall filing cabinet at the other side of the room and rooted in the top drawer. Pulling out a sheaf of papers and printouts, she leafed through until she found her R&D notes on the green gas which was currently keeping Superman in his weakened state.

The radon was mixed with Kryptonite! Of course! Colonel Trask was a cunning man indeed - any scientist handed this data would have no trouble surmising that the dangerous unknown element was of alien origin, and that it must be a natural emanation from the only known alien on the planet! These readouts were a smoking gun, and Superman would be named as the poison that had affected all those people.

There was one thing Trask may not have counted on, though. Katia had a new theory. She quickly put on protective clothing and went to a safe, drawing out a substance she wouldn't like the government to know she had…

* * *

_Lois twisted and gasped in the hospital bed. Sweat poured down her face, across the weeping sores and decaying flesh._

_Clark stood beside her, holding her hand as the tender skin was dying._

"_I'm sorry! I didn't know! Lois, NO!"_

_And all around him, beds were filled with people in agony, being slowly cooked at the cellular level by his alien radiation…_

"Clark?" Katia put out her gloved hand to shake him gently, and when he didn't respond, she grabbed his shoulder, wrenching him hard. "HEY!"

"Wha-?!" Clark jerked awake in the midst of another anguished apology.

"You were dreaming! I can guess what about, but she is alright, I promise you."

Clark, his thoughts still jumbled by the nightmare looked from the scientist in her yellow suit to the instrument in her hand. "What's going on?"

"Just a theory…" she placed her precious supply of uranium on the floor right next to Clark. The Geiger-counter, which had been reading somewhere in the 'extreme danger' levels of radiation, suddenly dropped.

"I knew it! You certainly are not the source of the radiation, Superman, in fact--"

"Well, that's good to know, Doctor." Trask's sudden interruption made Katia's jump and she whirled round to face the pistol he had levelled at her. "Unfortunately that's not the official story, so you'll need to make a few alterations to your press statement. Upstairs, _now_."

Katia was still protesting violently in both English and Czech as she was prodded into her lab, Trask's gun at her back.

"That's _enough_, Doctor!" The Colonel boomed, shoving her roughly into a chair. "You know, you scientists think you're so damned smart, always looking down your noses at the military, but really your just as dumb as all the other shmucks out there, too blind to see the threat in front of your face, and certainly too stupid to see the opportunity I've handed to you here!"

"The opportunity to blame an innocent man for a poison you've been spreading?" Katia bit back.

"He is NOT A MAN!!" Trask yelled, the fanaticism dragging his voice into a higher register, "He came to Earth without invitation and set himself up as some kind of god! Well it's time people saw that a god can fall! And his demise will make me a bigger hero than he ever was!"

Trask took a calming breath, aware he was losing his cool. He stepped closer to the doctor, deliberately waving his gun before her eyes.

"Now, you are going to go out and tell the nice people from the media that Superman is toxic to the people of Earth, and that he is scheduled for execution in 24 hours."

Katia folded her arms. "I will not."

"In that case, you will be the cause of a lot more suffering. How much radiation do you think a human can stand? _Twenty _of my K-radon emitters have been concealed in Metropolis General Hospital, and I will trigger them unless you do as you're told! You can't win doctor… everyone in that ER is waiting there because they have had contact with the alien. If you refuse to co-operate, they will all die, confirming the theory that Superman is the cause!"

Katia's determined expression fell. What could she do? She could be responsible for Superman's death, or the deaths of all the people at the hospital!

"What'll it be, Doctor…?" Trask began, but was cut off by a sharp blow to the back of the head.

Trask grunted and stumbled forwards, Katia leaping out of her chair as he fell at her feet.

Lois put down the microscope she was holding, breathing heavily.

"Where's Clark?!" she demanded.

Katia didn't reply but quickly dashed to a console on the wall, sliding a switch which halted the steady flow of Kryptonite gas into Superman's cell.

Seconds later her ankle was gripped and tugged. She fell into Trask's grasping hands, struggling and squirming.

Lois snatched up the microscope again and held it before her as Trask got to his feet, holding Katia in a vice-like grip.

"Nice surprise attack, Miss Lane," Trask's voice was oozed malice, "But you should always make sure your enemy _stays_ down." He brought his pistol level. "Allow me to demonstrate--"

Three levels down, the sound of the gunshot rung in Clark's ears and instantly he knew he had his super-hearing back.

He leaped to his feet and ran to the door, shoulder-barging it open. It took more effort that it should have, Clark noticed, and he wondered how long it would be before he was completely back to his normal - _super_ - self.

He arrived in the lab and took stock of the situation in a millisecond: Katia was screaming, tears of shock streaking down her face as she looked at the body in the corner… Lois.

Trask's face held a gloating expression over Katia's shoulder as he gripped his hostage tight, the gun now pressed against her neck.

Clark's heart skipped a beat as he saw Lois lying there, and a rage he shouldn't have felt as a good and true hero of the people welled up in him.

"Well my alien friend, looks like you cause no end of suffering from the people you claim to love, huh?" Trask gloated. "I see my plans will have to be accelerated - I may not get to execute you in front of the cameras, but as least I can still kill you!" He shoved Katia roughly away from him and aimed his pistol at the alien.

As the gun went off, Clark felt an instant's fear that he might still be vulnerable to the shot, and as the bullet hit home, for a split second the expression of malignant joy remained on Trask's face.

The bullet ricocheted straight back into the Colonel's upper chest. A look of utter confusion came over his face then, as he fell back into Katia's chair.

Clark rubbed his chest, which stung a little from the bullet's impact, but his aura of invulnerability seemed intact. Beneath his stained and creased office shirt, his bright 'S' symbol was not even marred. He rushed to Lois' side, his x-ray vision sweeping down her body, but his superior sight couldn't penetrate beyond the large metal plate over her chest and torso. He smiled in relief - he had always known Lois to be the kind of woman who took extraordinary risks and usually endangered her own life on the job, but maybe at last one of his long lectures to her about caution had paid off.

As he opened her coat and started to undo the vest, complete with a bullet lodged right in the heart area, she came to and smiled up at him weakly.

"Are you alright?" she croaked.

"Look who's asking." Clark replied as he helped her sit up. "Good thinking with this," he tapped the flak-jacket.

"Well, I've always wanted to be bulletproof." She smiled, and Clark leaned in to capture her chin in his hands. Lois looked from the intense relief in his eyes to his chest, where his grubby shirt hung open to reveal the uniform beneath. She put both arms round his neck and held him for the first time as the real Clark, the real Superman, both together. Clark brought his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss, his eyes closed in silent gratitude for her safety.

"Err, Superman, we have a problem!" Katia's voice broke into the tender reunion. Clark looked over to see her kneeling over Trask's body. The Colonel's hand held a small device with a red LED blinking on the top.

"He must have triggered his emitters before he died!"

Clark had no idea what she was talking about, but it didn't sound good. He rushed over, seized the device and crushed it in his palm.

"That won't do any good. Trask set twenty of his devices to release the same radioactive substance that poisoned all those people! They're all over Metropolis General!"

Katia had barely finished the sentence when Clark raced to the window and leaped out, not even stopping to discard his work clothes, nor even to wonder if he had regained the ability to fly! Thankfully he did not fall, and sped away over the city. If Trask had triggered his devices of death as he fell, then the lethal radiation would already have been pumping out for a few minutes. It would be a race against time to locate and destroy every emitter, but Clark had one fact to rely on: Katia's little uranium test in his cell earlier had made him realise that his dense molecular structure could attract and absorb the harmful rays. So intent was he on his mission that he didn't hear Katia's shout of warning from the lab.

"Wait, it's too dangerous!!" She yelled out of the window, but he was gone in a dark blur. The doctor whirled around. "We have to get there, fast!" Katia practically shrieked at Lois.

Lois got up painfully, rubbing her bruised chest. "What's wrong?"

"Superman doesn't know about the substance! It's mixed with Kryptonite! The radiation will affect him just like any other human being, except that he'll be drawing it ALL into himself! If that doesn't kill him, the Kryptonite certainly will!"

* * *

The reporters at Metro General had settled into a state of simmering agitation. They were still eagerly awaiting any further developments in the cases of 'Super-Sickness' that had already been diagnosed, and in the meantime were talking to the concerned citizens who had flooded in for reassurance when the story broke.

Samson was at the hospital too, trying to assuage the guilt of sending Evans round all the burglary sites… he wasn't sure how, but he was sure the young reporter's critical condition was in some way his fault. Local government could wait - today he was a front line investigator awaiting the next development in this alarming case.

He had spent the last several hours getting the stories of those around him and was now seated next to a middle-aged man with a boy of around twelve on his knee who had just got through telling him a harrowing tale of a car crash which Superman averted a few months ago, saving the man and his son from going over the edge of a cliff. Instead of being grateful to the hero, the man now seemed to take it as a curse that he and his boy had encountered the alien, and now would most likely die from the new disease.

A pair of men in white-coats stood a little way down the corridor, heads close together, talking animatedly over a clipboard. One held a device that looked not unlike one of those 'scanners' from Star Trek. Samson was just getting up to approach them, his notebook and interview-tone at the ready, when the device suddenly emitted a high-pitched whine. The two men looked at it, apparently in shock.

"Err, ladies and gentlemen!" The taller one of the two piped up, coming closer to the crowd and addressing the whole room while the other tried to shush him. Samson, now closer than anyone else to the men, could hear the shorter, stockier one telling his friend not to cause a panic, but his warning was ignored.

"If I could have your attention for a moment," he didn't need to ask - all heads we turned in his direction, listening intently, "I would like for you all to begin vacating this area, and if you could please make your way out of the hospital into the car park--"

"We're not leaving till we get some answers!" A young woman in the third row of seating yelled out. There were cries of assent from all over the crowded waiting area.

"Well, you see there's a problem with, err, the air conditioning system and there may be some harmful gasses coming out so if you could please--"

Again the scientist didn't get to finish, because a crotchety old lady began to fire questions at the scientists, asking what was taking so long and why they hadn't had any updates on the 'super-sickeness' for hours...

And into the midst of this strode a man in a crumpled, grubby suit and glasses.

"Clark?!" Samson exclaimed as soon as he saw him, and hurried over. As amazed as he was to see his colleague, it still didn't register instantly that Superman had just walked into the ER. All he thought was that Kent looked quite pale, like he was sick himself.

Another of the waiting people made the connection first.

"HEY!" He yelled out, jumping to his feet and pointing, "That's Clark Kent! It's _Superman_!"

Panic broke out. Everyone was on their feet in a heartbeat, trying to put distance between themselves and Clark. Cries of, "He's here to kill us!" rose from some people, whilst others started throwing things to get him to stay away. The many other media professionals in the room backed away too, but kept all their cameras focused on Clark, and yelled fiercely pointed questions in his direction: "What are you doing here? Is the Invasion about to begin? Where have you been all this time? Is there an antidote to your poison?"

And all the while the alien kept walking calmly through the crowd, ignoring the objects that bounced off him and the shrieks of accusation aimed at him. His arms were held out from his sides as though he were trailing his hands in water. He seemed to have set his jaw and tensed himself, and those who cared to look closely might have seen his hands shake a little, might have seen him start to breathe heavily and squeeze his eyes shut for a few moments…

Samson was no more aware of the true nature of the sickness than anyone else, but he personally believed that Clark was not the source of it all. He himself was not sick, nor were Lois Lane, the Chief or any of the other newsroom staff, with the exception of poor Evans, who had been in close quarters to the newly revealed Superman in the last year or so. It just didn't add up. As everyone else backed away in fear and anger, Samson approached Clark.

"Kent? You okay? You look terrible, kinda like…" suddenly Samson remembered the only other time he'd ever seen Clark looking this pale and trembling: the moments after that nutcase from Bureau 39 had gleefully held aloft the glowing green rock, taunting the alien hiding in plain sight among them.

"Shit, man, it's that rock! Where is it? You gotta get away from it!" Samson gripped Clark's shoulder just as his strength gave way and he toppled to the floor, groaning softly. Samson ignored the shouts of warning from the crowd and knelt over Clark, doing anything he could think of to help: removing the tie, opening his shirt further, fanning him with a clipboard.

"What's wrong with him?" Ventured the man Samson had been sitting next to earlier, taking a caution step towards them. Apparently a few other people felt curiosity overcome their paranoia for a moment and edged closer too. Brian Denver from Channel Nine News actually came right up to shove his microphone in Samson's face.

"What's wrong with him? He can't be sick from his own poison can he?"

"Get lost!" Samson retorted angrily, "Or I'll make you eat your mike! He needs space!"

The crowd formed a circle at a wary distance and continued to mutter and speculate as Clark began to twitch and gasp. For a moment the people seemed to forget that they hated the alien for spreading poison and become concerned for the one they knew as Superman, their hero.

"EXCUSE ME! Move aside please!" A woman's voice, shrill and accented, cut through the people.

Katia, still in her white lab-coat, strode quickly into the middle of the circle and knelt next to the suffering Superman. Close behind her came Lois Lane, whose face went pale with shock at the sight of Clark twisting in pain on the floor. Three other doctors followed the two women, and Samson recognised them as the ones treating Evans and the others. They yelled at the crowd to clear a path for the gurney.

Katia checked Clark's pulse and breathing, felt his forehead and looked at the palms of his hands. Samson had not noticed before, but Clark's palms bore many horrid-looking lesions.

"Clark, can you hear me?" Katia asked, leaning close to his face. Clark opened his eyes briefly and nodded. "Did you locate the emitters?" Another nod was all Clark could manage. Katia turned to Lois.

"I thought so when I saw his hands. The Kryptonite burned his flesh quite badly. We'll have to assume that he has disabled all the emitters, but they were active for a while before he arrived, and we have no way of knowing how much radiation they released."

"Someone tell us what the hell is going on here!" A reporter nearest the front cried in exasperation.

Katia shot the man a withering look which made him gulp and fall quiet instantly. She nodded at the doctors who lowered the gurney and began to manhandle Clark onto it.

Katia drew herself up to address the crowd.

"I am only going to say this once, so be _silent_!" She began, and Samson was amazed at the sudden obedience of the crowd: even all the reporters ceased their questions.

Clark opened his eyes a little as he felt the trolley he was on begin to move. Blurrily he saw Lois standing over him, her eyes glistening. Her hand was gripping his tightly, though he could no longer feel it.

As the doctors began to wheel him away through the crowd, he was dimly aware of the many eyes focused on him, and heard Katia's stern, foreign voice begin to explain to the people about Trask and the radiation.

He missed the bulk of it, but he was certain he heard her mention Kryptonite, which made sense to him. He had not been expecting the sudden rush of pain when he encountered the first of Trask's emitters, nor the burning sensation throughout his whole body which increased every moment he spent in the hospital. He knew it was the radiation, coursing through him, agitating his cells, disrupting his nervous system, and still he had walked though the corridors letting his body take in every deadly particle…

As his consciousness slipped away, the last thing he heard was Katia's voice. The last line of her statement she spoke passionately, and there was a catch of emotion in her voice.

"Superman has saved you all again, but it might cost him his life."

**End of Part Five**


	6. Chasing The Sun

**Part Six - Chasing the Sun**

"Why can't I go in there!" Lois demanded for the tenth time.

She'd walked alongside the gurney as far as a pair of doors with an electronic lock and a sign saying "RESTRICTED AREA", and then the three doctors had told her in no uncertain terms that she was not going any further, but with no satisfactory explanation. A beefy security guard stepped in front of her as they wheeled Clark out of sight, and she glared at him, mirroring his arms-folded posture in defiance.

She'd collared every white-coat walking by to get herself admitted, but none of them seemed to care that she was Lois Lane, top reporter for the Daily Planet, Superman's closest friend and Clark Kent's partner! No credential she could bring out would illicit any help, until the doors swung outward towards her and Katia poked her head out.

"How did you--?" Lois began, both surprised and testy that the woman was allowed to be with Clark while she was not.

"There's a back way. Come through, Lois." Katia beckoned, and the security guard, who looked about to step in with his brick-wall physique, stepped back at the scientist's chilling glare and quickly-flashed security ID. Lois hurried on into another, identical corridor, listening gratefully to Katia's report.

"They've had to put Superman into a clean room, because the radiation compromised his immune system. Even breathing on him might be fatal right now."

Lois fought down a wave of fear. It shocked her to think that the Man of Steel could be so weakened. And how long would he remain this way? Maybe permanently? It was a fate worse than she could imagine; to live and yet be trapped in a protective bubble. Superman would never stand for it, Lois knew - he could never be a spectator in life, any more than she could.

"So, what are they doing for him now? I mean, he'll heal, right?" Lois asked earnestly, pouring in all the optimism she could to quash her suffocating doubts.

Katia didn't reply, her gaze drawn to the left as she stopped in front of a plate glass window. Lois followed her look into the room beyond.

It was like déjà-vu. Days ago she'd been weeping before a window as Jimmy lay injured and covered with monitoring equipment. Now Clark lay there unconscious, attended by two doctors in white overalls and masks who were carefully cleaning and dressing the wounds on his hands.

They finished up and exited through a kind of airlock, sealing up Clark's room thoroughly before they removed their masks and turned to the two women.

"Dr. Slomowitz," one of the medics began, "I'm Dr. Warwick. Now, I need you to be completely honest with me. What's really going on here?" His tone held an edge of anger, and Lois was surprised to see the usually fierce Czech scientist a little intimidated by his firm tone.

Dr. Warwick continued, the exasperated tirade of a man who is used to having all the answers. "This stuff that can hurt Superman… I saw that hold-up at the Daily Planet on TV, and it looked to me like the rock was dangerous only so long as he was exposed to it. The problem is that now he's away from it, he isn't recovering. At a guess I'd say his condition isn't entirely due to his actions this evening - he's suffering _cumulative_ effects of radiation! But how can that be?"

His sharp blue eyes bored into Katia's. "I know you're in this mess deep, doctor. But however much trouble you think you're in, it's going to get a whole lot worse if Superman dies." The last line was almost a growl.

"I worked for Colonel Trask," Katia admitted, "I was given a rock of alien origin for study some weeks ago. I was directed to make a sedative gas using the Kryptonite, but at the time I did not know what it did or why it was requested. Then Trask brought Superman to me, and he has been a prisoner for the last several days, kept powerless by the gas. I think this may have caused some long-term damage." Katia looked at the ground, shame in her eyes. "I followed orders - Bureau 39 had the power to have me deported, or killed!"

Dr. Warwick turned his eyes away from Katia in disgust. He looked to Lois, who was still anxious to know Clark's prognosis. "I won't sugar-coat it, Miss Lane; Superman's organs are starting to shut down, his blood… well, we can't even get a handle on that because we have no normal sample for comparison!"

Katia looked up sharply, "I can get you a base sample of Superman's blood from my lab! Perhaps a transfusion of his own clean blood from before this massive dose of radiation would help?"

"Sort of like dialysis?" Lois agreed, remembering Mr. Mestre, the only man to have come through Trask's sick experiment unscathed.

Dr. Warwick nodded his assent. "I'm willing to try anything at this point."

Katia made the trip to her lab and back in a record fifteen minutes by express motorbike courier, and Clark was swiftly connected to a bag of his own blood. Lois and the doctors stood back and hoped for the best, but Dr. Warwick looked doubtful.

"I just don't know... I've never treated an alien before, much less one who is supposed to be invulnerable to harm! I've been analysing the emitters Superman disabled: each one was like a miniature Chernobyl! He's been exposed to radiation more powerful than the sun! No _ordinary _being could possibly survive it, but if he had his powers…"

Lois' didn't hear the rest of the doctor's statement - the idea blazed through her mind like a bolt of lightning!

"The sun!" She exclaimed, "It's the source of his powers! It would help him heal!"

Katia was nodding emphatically now, too. "Yes, you are right! In my analysis of his blood chemistry I found his cells to be solar-responsive. But," she looked out of the nearest window at the deepening blue of the sky, "We are too late. The sun has gone down."

Dr. Warwick was already on his cell phone. "Radiology? Have we got a UV tanning bed down there? Great, we're on our way!"

* * *

Lois paced round the nurses lounge, sat briefly in one of the comfy sofas, then got up to pace again. She was grateful to have been given this private space to wait in, since the ER was still full of the public and media, and she had no particular wish to go through questioning again. On the way down to radiology she'd been hounded by one enterprising young reporter who had been loitering in the elevators hoping to catch someone. He had refused to take 'no comment' as an answer and grilled her about whether Superman would survive, and about her relationship with Clark… the snot-nosed rookie had the nerve to ask if she was intimate with the Man of Steel! Must've worked for a tabloid.

Clark had been put into an ordinary tanning bed, the kind Lois had used herself a few times in winters gone by when she couldn't stump up the cash for a trip to somewhere sunny. She had no idea if it would work, but there was simply nothing else she or any of the 'brilliant scientific minds' could come up with.

She closed her eyes and pictured his face. Clark's face. How many times in the past year had she pictured Superman; his rich, dark eyes and firm body so well-displayed in that tight outfit? How many times had she held in her heart the strong, gentle voice that bid her good evening and flew off from her windowsill? Her hero, her fantasy. She had wanted to know all his secrets, to be the only woman in the world favoured by the god in blue tights. It was a selfish dream, and yet now she knew that it had come true anyway. Clark had always favoured her, doted on her. She had seen his unwavering affection as a sweet, slightly pathetic little crush on a more experienced colleague. Lois was fiery-tempered, sassy and confident; everything that would dazzle a mild-mannered farm boy… and she had secretly enjoyed his adoration because it inflated her ego to be so elevated in someone's eyes, even it was only Clark.

_Only Clark?_ She laughed at herself in her mind. How had it all gotten so complicated? At two in the morning, after ten or more cups of disgusting hospital coffee and the stress of waiting endlessly for any change, the complexity of it all fell away and her exhausted mind latched onto only the true, logical, simple nature of things.

Clark was Superman.

Clark loved her.

And she loved both of them… she loved _him_.

As much as she feared for his life right now, Lois was suddenly suffused with the joy of that simple admission. She smiled from ear to ear, just thinking about how easy it was to say it over and over to herself.

_I love him! I love him!_

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, smiling through the tears which would not stop falling. She had never thought to be so blown away by the reality of being in love. Her ideas on the subject were a mixture of her past train-wreck relationships and a hundred soppy romance movies. This was different - this was real.

She was still standing there, grinning foolishly when a nurse came into the room.

"Oh, you've heard, then?" She asked, seeing the tears of happiness on Lois' cheeks.

"No, what!" Lois' mind was suddenly dragged back to the present.

The nurse, puzzled, informed her that Superman had woken up. Lois didn't stop to enquire further, but bolted out past the nurse and round the corner towards the solarium.

She burst in without knocking to see Dr. Warwick helping Clark out of the sunbed and into a waiting chair.

"Clark!" She exclaimed, dashing to his side.

"Miss Lane, please," Dr. Warwick began, a chiding tone in his voice, "Superman is very weak right now, you should probably give him a few hours to--"

But Lois wasn't listening. She knelt by his side and put her arms round him gently, looking intently into his eyes, waiting for him to say something, anything.

"W-were you crying?" His voice was little more than a whisper as he reached out and delicately touched her streaked face.

Her eyes brimmed again and she buried her face into his shoulder. His hand slid up her back and into her hair. "Shhh…" he soothed, "I'm fine, Lois."

She pulled back and looked him over, seeking the truth in his words. He looked like an ordinary man with a bad case of the flu - there were dark circles round his eyes, his cheeks were pale as he smiled weakly at her. His hands were still wounded…

"I thought the sunbed would help you heal," she began sadly, but he stopped her.

"It saved my life. It was a great idea Lois! I just need something a little stronger, that's all." He pushed her away gently and used the arms of the chair to heave himself to his feet like an old man.

"What are you doing? Superman you need to rest!" Protested Dr. Warwick immediately. Clark strode over to the window and pulled back the curtain. Lois understood what he was seeking.

"It's still night, Clark."

"Not everywhere."

Without any of Superman's usual grace, he opened the window and climbed out onto the ledge.

Lois and Dr. Warwick cried out in unison and ran forwards as he launched himself from the window, and fell straight down out of sight. About ten stories below, Clark was still falling. Lois wanted to turn away but she could not. Her stomach clenched so hard she could barely breathe as she silently willed him to fly!

Just twenty feet from the ground, the figure of Clark, now small and indistinct in the murky pre-dawn, took off sideways and gained speed and height. Lois let out her breath and sagged against the windowsill.

* * *

Lois twitched and frowned through a bizarre dream where she was the grieving widow at the graveside of Superman, the coffin draped in his bright red cape with its symbol of hope. Clark stood behind her in a black suit, his arms draped soothingly round her shoulders. Camera flashes went off all around as the world recorded the passing of the superhero, and yet Clark seemed strangely at peace as he held Lois close.

It was disturbing, but as her cracked mind tried to make sense of the wrongness of it all, the ground shook, the whole earth trembled under her feet, and a voice spoke, gently at first then more insistently…

"Lois, honey, wake up…"

The hand on her shoulder buffeted her more firmly. She cried out as the dream world smashed and her eyes snapped open to focus on the coffee machine in front of her, then took in her surroundings. She was back in the nurses' lounge, and the voice bringing her back to the present was Perry's soft Southern brogue.

"Wha- what time is it?" She mumbled.

"It's a quarter after four in the morning." It was not Perry who spoke. Lois leapt up.

"Jimmy! God, are you alright?" Without a thought she pulled him into a bear-hug, but let go quickly as he yelped in pain.

"Easy there, Lois," Perry scolded her, "Boy's been to hell and back!"

"And all because of me." Lois agreed sombrely. "I'm so sorry, Jimmy. You… you saved my life." She looked her young friend up and down, noting the bandage across his head and the dressings on his arms. And yet Jimmy's eyes were bright as he smiled at her.

"Yep, and don't think I won't be calling in that favour when a certain person's sister comes to town!"

Lois laughed, her tension draining away for a moment at his cheerfulness. Then she remembered why she was still in the hospital. She turned to Perry.

"Did Clark come back?"

"No one's heard anything yet, but I think he'll show up in his own time. Now you better go home and get some proper rest. Get! I don't want to see you back at work before noon!"

For once Lois was all too willing to follow her editor's orders.

* * *

As the morning light sneaked in through her tasteful gauzy drapes, Lois threw her pillow across the room and huffed in frustration. She knew there was simply no way she was going to get a good solid sleep. After that disconcerting dream and the constant nagging thought that Clark had not been at all well when he left the hospital, her brain was buzzing with the thought that he might have crash-landed somewhere remote, with no transport and no phone, and who knew what havoc the radiation was still playing with his body?

She had been dozing fitfully in ten-minute bursts, but as the little alarm clock on her nightstand chimed 10 a.m., she finally gave up and moved to the couch. She tuned into Channel Nine News, where Brian Denver was still keeping vigil at the hospital in case there were any new developments in Superman's case. Lois was surprised that Dr. Warwick had managed to keep Clark's unsteady leap from the window of the radiology ward a secret from the hoards of press camped out in the ER.

Denver finished his on-site report and handed back to the studio, which proceeded to run a quite thorough round-up of the last few days. Lois considered switching off as the report began with extracts from Trask's home-movie inside the Daily Planet newsroom. She bit her lip as she saw the playback of Clark being dragged to the front and exposed as an alien. She nearly cried to see the lump of Kryptonite pressed into his hand. Then came the story of how the sickness had come to light, the rumours that it was Superman's toxin and the rush of frightened people into the hospital. Finally the arrival of Clark Kent in the ER, how braved the public hatred and heroically took all of the poison into himself, leaving him in critical condition. As far as the wider world knew, their hero was still fighting for his life in Intensive Care, and all medical personnel were sticking to that story.

There followed a side-story on the discovery of Colonel Trask's body at Chemkya Labs. Police were eager to question Dr. Katia Slomowitz, but she seemed to have disappeared.

_No kidding,_ thought Lois. Katia was in all this up to her pretty little neck, and as much as Lois wanted to hate the woman for hurting Clark, she had to grudgingly admit Katia had also helped save his life, and Lois hoped that she wouldn't end up in jail for working with Trask under duress.

Lois looked out of her window and wondered again where Clark was now. It was pretty average weather outside; the sun struggled through the clouds to fall weak and stripy on the pavement. He'd gone in search of some strong solar energy… maybe the Caribbean, or the Sahara desert? Or would he take it to extremes and try to fly to the sun itself?

She flicked channels on the TV idly for a few minutes and sighed in resignation. If she wasn't going to sleep, she told herself, she might as well be somewhere useful. Despite Perry's orders not to show up till noon, she threw on some half-way decent clothes and headed for the Planet.

* * *

The glare of the sun on the snow was so bright, Clark had to squeeze his eyes shut and fly on blindly. It wasn't usual for him to feel cold, but he did. He'd visited this part of the Himalayas before many times; it was a favourite spot for him in times of stress, but never before had he truly appreciated the temperature of the place. Still, it wasn't warmth that he needed, but sunlight, and that was plentiful here. No tall buildings, no clouds, no trees, just the vast, stark beauty of the mountains.

His powers were definitely acting up. After his harrowing fifteen-story fall back in Metropolis, he'd been much more careful to fly relatively low and keep himself above the ocean in case of emergency landing. Still, he'd lost power temporarily twice across the Atlantic, falling almost to the waves before he found the strength to rise again. He gratefully touched down in Egypt where the sun was strong and high, and spent a few hours resting atop the Great Pyramid at Giza. After that little recharge, he felt strong enough to make a trip back to his apartment to pick up a fresh Superman uniform from his closet. It simply wouldn't do to be seen flying around in a baggy white hospital gown.

Now he floated with the breeze above the highest peaks in the world, his breath steaming in the thin upper-atmosphere. Cold was not a pleasant sensation, he decided, wondering if his powers would be a bit hit-and-miss for a long time to come. He was still 'super', just not as super as he remembered. He recalled the stab of fear through his heart as Trask fired his gun, the sting of the bullet that didn't make it past his skin but still left a little mark as a souvenir of the ordeal.

He looked at his hands. The blisters were looking less angry now. How he had fought to keep in the scream as he grabbed the first of the radiation-emitters, its green glow a dead giveaway as to its contents. And as if that wasn't enough, there were nineteen more of the things… The searing pain - it was exactly the same as days before, when the raw Kryptonite had been pressed to his flesh in front of all of his friends, in front of the world.

Clark shook his head, trying to dispel the anxiety creeping over him about returning to Metropolis. The people would be glad to see him recovered, he knew. But then there were explanations to give, and life must go on despite the whole world now being aware of his real identity.

Clark Kent would be a celebrity, unable to escape the paparazzi by simply flying off as Superman had. His friendships and work ties would be put under the microscope, his parents interrogated about their decision to take in an alien child.

Doubtless Lois was already under a lot of pressure to give interviews, and Clark knew what kind of questions they would be asking her. Degrading, intrusive ones. Silently he apologised over and over for the hardship he had brought to the lives of those he cared about. He hated to admit it, but Trask had been right about that.

He shivered again. As beautiful as it was, the icy loneliness of the place was depressing him. He needed to go somewhere cheerful! Seconds later he was a red and blue streak over the South Pacific, headed for his favourite party-spot, Fiji.

* * *

Lois scribbled absently on the notepad before her and looked over to Clark's empty desk for maybe the hundredth time that morning. There'd been no word at all from him, no indication he was even alive. She'd tried calling his parents, figuring that to be the first place he'd go to recuperate, but they were incommunicado too.

In the last three hours she was meant to have written a page-one eyewitness account of Superman's unmasking in the Daily Planet newsroom, with the personal slant that only a close friend of Superman's and partner of Clark Kent's could bring to the piece. Instead she had reviewed the last few days in agonising detail, with new and complex emotions jumping up at every turn. Back at the hospital, with Clark at death's door, Lois had been able to admit her true feelings for him, but now in the harsh light of day it seemed more like an acknowledgement of something that was so, despite how much she wished she could change it.

Yes, she loved him. But she was also furious with him too! Clark Kent, the good and honest little boy-scout, had been lying to her from the very first day of their friendship. She remembered how his sudden exits used to drive her mad, how she had asked him directly to his face if he was hiding something from her. He had said no.

The worst part was that she knew the reason. He couldn't trust her. Her own partner! She had told him most of her deepest fears and most embarrassing secrets… given, his was a huge secret to share, but did he think she'd put it in the headlines the next day? No, she was a loyal friend! Lois felt sure she would have been supportive, helped him bear his burden of duality…

Ah, but that wasn't true at all. Lois could be frank with herself that had Clark ever told her he was Superman, she would have blown up at him like a volcano, for all the same reasons she used now. She would rant and scream at him…

But he wasn't here to be shouted at, was he? And that only brought back her concern for him, her desperate need to know he was safe, to see his face, to feel his strong arms.

So the cycle of anger, worry and longing went on, infuriating her almost to the edge of her sanity. There was no way she'd have the article done by five.

"What are you grinning at?" Lois barked as Samson walked past her desk, his eyes lit with anticipation. He stopped at the harsh question and his cheerful expression became defensive.

"It's an important day, Lois!" Samson informed her, "The Kents-vs-the National Whisper!"

"The _Kents_? What are you talking about?" If there was one thing Lois hated, it was being out-of-the-loop, but the last few days had been so exclusively focused on finding Clark, she had totally forgotten to monitor the world's reaction to the Superman revelation.

Samson was only too pleased to be back covering political stories again. Strange, considering how he'd spent years wishing for a more glamorous or exciting field, but now he found how much he loved the intricacy of legislation and debate. He took out his notes from the day before to show them to Lois.

"Well, the 'Clark-is-Superman' story was broken on Tuesday at noon, and within half an hour the Kent farm in Smallville was completely surrounded! Clark's parents holed up inside and refused to make any comment, so the press outside started to get a little bold. These two from the National Whisper were the first to officially trespass. Their photographer climbed up the outside of the barn into the hay loft for better photos, and Erin Gray, the reporter-on-scene, was picking the back door lock when the police showed up."

Frankly Lois wasn't surprised by this - she was well aware of the lengths a reporter would go to to get a story. How many places had she broken into herself? She felt like such a hypocrite, and yet still she couldn't suppress a wave of loathing for the low-down bitch who tried to break into Martha and Jonathan's home.

"So, at first it was just those two who were charged, until Cam the Clam got involved." Samson grinned widely at this, as though the name itself explained everything. This was starting to sound more and more like a gangster film, Lois thought. She was just about to ask who this dramatic character was when Jimmy strolled up to the desk, picking up on the story too.

"Cam the Clam, what a legend!" His grin matched Samson's. Seeing Lois' puzzled expression begin to edge into impatience, he elaborated. "Cameron Daley, the toughest lawyer in Kansas. They call him 'the clam' because once he's got someone, there's no way he's letting go!"

"And because he's so tight-lipped. The man hates reporters! Lucky for me I'm a friend of Clark's - he's giving me the exclusive!" Samson's chest swelled with pride and his face grew even more animated as he went on. "As soon as Daley found out what happened in Smallville, he swooped in and took over the case. Now he's going to the State demanding new privacy legislation to protect Superman's family in perpetuity, but the National Whisper is saying it restricts the freedom of the press, so…"

"So, you'd better run along to witness the debates, right?" Lois encouraged, having decided she had had enough of the young man's bubbly enthusiasm for legal affairs. Samson nodded an excited farewell to Lois and Jimmy and practically bounded away.

Lois sat back in her chair with a sigh of relief. "I'm glad someone's having fun with all of this." She said with a touch of sarcasm. Jimmy laughed lightly and dropped a brown envelope on the desk in front of her.

"This might cheer you up."

Lois opened the envelope and slipped out a number of glossy photos. Her breath caught as she looked at the scenes of Superman, back to his bright colours again, flying over Ayer's Rock in Australia.

"My cousin in Alice Springs was on a school trip. He's only fifteen, but quite the photographer already, huh? Think Perry'll give him a job at the Planet?"

"I'll make him your replacement if you don't get those down to Art five minutes ago!" Perry boomed from directly behind them. Jimmy snatched back the photos and raced off to the elevator.

Lois turned back to her computer and began to type in earnest. She could almost feel Perry's scowl over her shoulder. She was expecting a to be torn off a strip for her dithering and moping, but Perry only stepped round to face her and gestured to Clark's desk.

"Staring at it isn't going to make him come home any faster, Lois." His tone was uncharacteristically gentle.

"You make him sound like a kid that's run away from home," Lois sulked.

Perry shrugged as he turned away. "You never know."

That set a chorus of alarm bells ringing in Lois' head - the one conclusion she hadn't even considered. Maybe Clark _had_ decided to run away! The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. His secret identity was known to the world - he could never again hide behind the inaccessible Superman persona. His family were under siege from the press, and no doubt the criminal underworld would soon find ways to exploit the people Clark loved, including herself. Lois gulped as she imagined the guilt he must be feeling for creating danger and hassle in so many lives. Then there was their own relationship to consider. Perhaps, rather than trusting that she might get over the betrayal and forgive him, Clark would rather cut and run than deal with that awkwardness and hurt. All in all, it would be much easier to stay away than to return and face the consequences of trying to fool the whole world.

_No way!_ Lois told herself sternly, a reprimand for even imagining that he might be that cowardly. Superman or not, Clark Kent was the most courageous man she'd ever known.

She looked over at his desk one more time. Her partner should be sitting there, smiling at her, cheekily pointing out her spelling mistakes, maybe nipping out for Chinese food as they pulled an all-nighter on a difficult case… he was unwaveringly selfless, devoted and cheerful. She looked at her screen again, suddenly knowing exactly what angle her article would take. With a fiery determination, she began to type.

**End of Part Six**


	7. When All's Said And Done

**FREEDOM OF THE PRESS**

**Part Seven - When All's Said And Done**

At a remote cabin in the Canadian Rockies, a fire leaped in the hearth, warming the cosy space.

Martha and Jonathan Kent sat in comfy armchairs before the fire. Jonathan was fiddling with an archaic black-and-white TV set, turning the aerial this way and that in an attempt to get a clear signal.

"Leave it alone, Jonathan. Cameron will call us when there's any news."

The last few days had aged them both. First the shock of seeing their son cruelly exposed and tortured on the afternoon news, then the onslaught of media attention which followed. Finally Mr. Daley, one of their good friends of many years, called in his hot-shot lawyer son to help.

Young Cameron had seized upon the opportunity to put a new policy to the State, and now the Kents couldn't help but feel that they were no more than exhibits in a much wider case. Still, Cameron had secured them this quiet place to stay until it all blew over.

And through it all, they couldn't stop worrying about Clark. Of course, they knew Colonel Trask first-hand, having been held hostage by the maniac in Smallville several weeks ago, and witnessed the terrible effect that Kryptonite had on their boy.

Martha had wept for hours after the report ended with the dramatic footage of Clark being hauled away by the armed men. Jonathan had been on the phone to the Planet within minutes, only to be informed that there had been a further development which left Lois wounded and Jimmy almost dead. There was almost no way the situation could have gotten any worse.

An agonising two days had brought only more bad news as the 'sickness' came to light, which sent Martha into an indignant fury. She was appalled not only at the gullibility of the city-folk, but also their heartlessness, to suddenly turn on their hero and be so quick to call her precious son an alien threat!

Now they could only wait and wonder how Clark was doing. The last news they heard was of his tremendous self-sacrifice at the hospital, and the doctors would only say that Superman was being treated.

Martha frowned as she heard a noise outside, a soft crunching of the snow underfoot. What enterprising reporter had trekked all the way out here? She rose and went to the window, drawing back the heavy curtains.

"Jonathan, honey, I think there's someone…" she stopped, gasping as she recognised the figure trudging toward the door, his cape dancing wildly in the storm.

"Clark!" she exclaimed as she dashed over and threw the door open, immediately buffeted by a blast of freezing wind.

Clark, his bright costume covered in snow, stepped over the threshold into his mother's embrace, his eyes almost full with tears the instant he laid eyes on her. His father rushed over and joined the group-hug.

Ten minutes later and the family were seated round the fire with a hot mug of tea each. Clark felt truly safe again, and for a while it seemed that all his problems dissolved like snow into the heavy fleece blanket his mom had wrapped around him.

He told them briefly of Lois' ingenious idea to use UV radiation to save him, and of his trip round the world absorbing all the healing sunshine he could before heading to snowy Alberta.

"I feel like myself again," he told his parents, frowning, "But I don't know what to do now. I guess I have to go back, but as who?"

"As yourself, Clark! Superman was never really you," Martha reminded him, "Just your powers and my sewing skills!" She was pleased to see a smile crack his gloomy mask at this.

"And if Cameron's as good a lawyer as he thinks he is, you might still be able to have your privacy," Jonathan put in. "We all might."

Clark looked into his father's eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Dad. You shouldn't have to have your lives ruined because of what I am…"

"What you _are_ is our son! Our lives might _change_ a little, but you could never ruin them! You know, your grandfather always used to say that things turn out for the best, even though you might not see it right now. Okay, so they know Clark Kent is special. Doesn't change how they feel about you, or the fact that you dedicate yourself to protecting the world and being a great journalist."

Clark nodded. This is what he needed, his dad's wisdom could always make sense of any situation. His mother put her hand on his knee gently.

"And how many times have you sat in our kitchen wishing that things could be different between you and Lois?" She asked, that familiar hint of a challenge in her voice.

"God, Lois," Clark groaned, "What the hell am I going to say to her?"

"If I know Lois, it won't matter what you say. She'll need to bluster and rant at you for a little while, then she'll get over it and give you two a proper chance at a relationship."

"You think so?" Clark was dubious at his mom's prediction. Martha only smiled.

"When a woman is angry, it's just her way of telling her man she's really in love with him. Why would she get so emotional if she didn't care so much?"

Clark had to admit the female psyche baffled him utterly, but his mom's advice on that particular subject could always be trusted. He x-rayed through the stout wooden walls of the cabin briefly. It had stopped snowing.

"I guess it's time to face the music."

* * *

Lois wondered anew at the events of the last few days as she held the first hard-copy of tomorrow's _Daily Planet_ in her hands. She could honestly say that few weeks in her life had been so pivotal, both to her feelings and, potentially, her future.

The headline before her read, "CLARK KENT, THE HIDDEN HERO". This was one of the few articles Lois had written in the past year which did not focus on Superman. This was the story of a farm-boy, raised to be generous and courageous, whose extraordinary origins had made him adopt a double life, to serve the community publicly as a brightly caped hero-on-call, and privately as an investigative reporter dedicated to bringing the truth to the people.

She had trawled her memory for all the stories Clark had told her about his life before the _Planet_, and become painfully aware that in the early months of their partnership she really hadn't paid much attention to the 'hack from Nowheresville'. He had travelled the world, learned ballroom dancing from a princess in some country or other…

Eventually she had resorted to ringing round his past associates, getting a clearer picture of the boy-Kent and of the young, green reporter who had moved to Metropolis to make his career. All this research, hours spent trying to put herself in the mind of a man raised as a human but so blatantly not one, had brought her to some extremely enlightening truths about why he had chosen to keep his identity a secret from the world, and from her. She quickly found that all the people on that fateful burglaries list had been saved by Clark one way or another, but subtly, secretly. It must have been difficult for him to do what had to be done and try to hide it at the same time.

Filled with these observations, her article portrayed a man with a fervent desire to use his amazing abilities for the common good, tempered by the fear that he would never live a normal life the moment people saw a man who could fly.

Lois' eyes strayed from her columns to the photo beneath. Perry had wanted a side-by-side of Clark and Superman, but Lois insisted that it should be only Clark, and she got her way. The picture was not one of Jimmy's artful press-shots, nor was it a nicely airbrushed portrait. This photo was from Lois' private collection, taken on her own modest little digital camera during a staff party. Clark's jubilant smiled played up at her from the page, his eyes sparkling with some joke or other. This was her partner, her friend, and Lois wanted the world to see him as she did.

"Tell me, Lois," Perry's soft rumble made her jump as usual, "It's a fantastic article, but did you write this for you, or for him?" There was a hint of amusement in the southern accent.

Lois straightened her shoulders and turned to the Chief, her chin high and haughty expression back in place.

"I don't know what you mean," she lied smoothly, "I'm going home."

The smile didn't leave Perry's face as she headed for the door. He couldn't help feeling sorry for Clark - what a handful of trouble he had fallen for in Lois Lane.

* * *

Butterflies swarmed in Lois' stomach, refusing to settle as the time ticked by. She'd spent more than an hour getting herself ready to face him, looking fabulous and feeling like a bizarre cross between a volcano about to erupt and a schoolgirl on a first date.

He was coming back tonight. He would come to her, she knew it. There was just some undeniable force, some magnetism that would bring him to face the huge question-marks that hung over their relationship.

But it was already gone nine o'clock. Where the hell was he?

Her drapes danced in the light breeze from the window, open in readiness for him to float gracefully through, and Lois looked up sharply at every emphatic gust of wind.

Damn him for making her wait, tense as a cougar and twice as bad-tempered!

She was on the brink of giving up the watch and going to get an early night, but she hated to think that her intuition had failed her. More than that, she hated to imagine that he might have given up on them and simply assumed there was no more to be said between them.

A knock at her door made her jump half a foot off the couch and grasp her stomach breathlessly. She cursed as she stomped over to the door, ready to bite the head off of some unfortunate salesman. As she opened the door, her first verbal attack died on her lips. Clark stood before her, his look composed and determined. Lois wondered how long he'd been stood outside her door, psyching himself up.

"I thought you'd be…" Lois gestured to the window, for some reason her words weren't flowing very well.

"I wanted to come this way for once," Clark replied, and Lois' eyes filled with concern.

"You mean, you can't fly? Didn't you--?" she began, and Clark was touched that her care for him transcended whatever anger she may hold, her eyes sweeping his body for signs of hurt and lingering on his hands, which had borne the terrible Kryptonite-burns.

"I'm fine, Lois. My powers are back to normal at any rate. I chased the sun round the world for a while and that seems to have recharged me."

This was safe conversation, at least. He figured he had a few seconds before the fireworks started.

Lois nodded, relief in her tense face. Clark felt guilty that he hadn't come back sooner. She looked like she'd been on the brink of her sanity with worry. She turned and went into the kitchen, busying herself with the coffee-machine in silence while Clark stood in the centre of her lounge like a defendant awaiting judgement. He shifted uncomfortably, remembering his mother's words. It didn't matter what excuses he had, she simply needed to get whatever she felt into the open, and the sooner the better.

Lois' mind was frantically trying to rehearse the opening line of this… well she hoped it wouldn't be an argument or a torrent of abuse on her part. She hoped she was bigger than that, but her emotions were certainly a volatile brew. Her thoughts were so loud in her head that she didn't hear him step up behind her.

"Say something, Lois," he prompted softly in her ear, a hint of a plea in his voice.

She turned to find herself inches from him, and looked up into his eyes.

"Y-you lied to me, Clark." It was a statement of fact. No fire there, no accusation.

Clark nodded his admission, "Yes. I lied to you."

Lois almost lost her next words as her eyes strayed to his soft lips, the calm set of his jaw. "And I was angry at that, for a while."

This surprised Clark. Did she imply that she'd already gotten over it? Impossible! This was Lois! She could hold a grudge over a game of Monopoly!

"But more than that, I was hurt."

Ah, now to the awful truth. Hurt was definitely worse than angry. Clark brought his hands up to her shoulders. His voice became soft and low as he poured every ounce of truth into his words. "Believe me that's the last thing I ever wanted to do! But that's the trouble with secrets, once you've had them a while, it becomes too hard to come out and admit the lie."

Lois could see the truth in his words - they could have been straight out of her article, but no way she was letting him off that lightly. Her eyes hardened as she shrugged out of his gentle grip.

"That's no excuse, Kent. We've been friends for over a year! You could have chanced it, could've dared to trust me--"

"I did, Lois. Or did you forget that night?"

Lois flushed slightly at the memory of his breathless promise. She remembered the wash of anxiety in his eyes… _"You don't really know me."_ Then followed the newfound determination, the clarity with which he declared, _"But you will."_

"I made the decision I've always put off, I resolved to tell you who I am no matter what it cost me, but… Trask beat me to it."

The mention of the Colonel's name ended the game for Lois. She had forgiven him in her heart for the betrayal of trust, and it was mean to play with his guilt like this.

Without warning she slipped one arm round his neck and the other round his waist, drawing him to her in a fierce hug.

"I know Clark, and I'm sorry. Sorry it all turned out that way!"

Clark was more confused by Lois now than ever before. She could have won this argument hands-down and had him falling over himself to atone for his lack of faith in her, but instead she surrendered the whole thing. He felt the intensity of her embrace and returned it.

"I have something to tell you, but I'm not sure I like it." Lois ventured, her voice muffled in his shirt. She drew back a little, and Clark saw that there were tears lingering unshed in her eyes.

"When Trask died, I was glad. I hated him, I mean really _hated_ him for what he did. I didn't think I could feel hate that powerful… when he pressed that Kryptonite into your hand--" she suppressed a sob, and reached down to touch the newly healed skin there.

"It hurt, sure, but not nearly as much as it hurt to think I'd blown my chance with you."

Lois wiped her eyes, a cheeky smile lightening her face.

"Smooth, Kent, very smooth."

Clark grinned back, "I thought so."

The humour was like a healing tide between them. They smiled at each other, all blame and guilt erased. Clark breathed deep and took a chance on the scary question.

"So, where do we go from here?" he was serious, but Lois' meaningful glance in the direction of the bedroom had him laughing again for a moment.

"You know what I mean, Lois," he went on. "The world knows who I am now, and it's gonna make living a normal life very hard… I don't want your life to be complicated by association."

"What, you mean more complicated than feeling guilty about your hopeless farm-boy crush on me, not realising it was really you I was longing for?"

She walked forwards, forcing his retreat in the direction of the couch. As they reached it, he sank backwards and she sat next to him, her eyes never leaving his.

"I don't want complicated anymore, Clark. I want simple. You and me. No identities, no secrets, just this--"

The kiss was intense, breathtaking. Clark lost himself in the passion of it, revelling in the fact that she had called him by his true name, that she knew all of him at last, and wanted him.

Breathlessly she drew away from him and went over to a drawer. "I'd like your professional opinion on this," she returned to his side and handed over a copy of the Daily Planet - it was tomorrow's issue. She watched Clark's face as he read the article which was her most honest testament of feeling for her partner.

Clark was quite simply blown away by Lois' latest work. All of his reasons for hiding himself behind the colourful hero were laid bare as if he had written them himself. He had worried about returning to Metropolis and having to justify his actions to the people, fearing they would not understand his driving need for a normal life, to fall in love, have a family, and do all the things that average Joes took for granted. Now he knew there was nothing to fear. Lois had given him far more praise than he thought he deserved in her article, but more than that she had made his explanation for him, with eloquence and passion. It was such a beautiful gift, this edition, from his loving and supportive partner. Clark looked up from the page with a lump in his throat, the thanks too sincere to be spoken.

Instead he took her in his arms again and kissed her tenderly. "I love you, Lois." He breathed. She returned the kiss with fervour, while her slim fingers fumbled at the buttons of his shirt and finally opened it, sliding inside to feel the embossed 'S' that should be there. Instead she felt only his warm, firm chest. She looked down in surprise and his gentle smile told her that he wanted to be only Clark tonight.

_Only Clark_… was all she wanted.

"Well, you've got a great tan…" she said, smiling, and went in to kiss him once more.

**The End**

_Author's Note:_ Finished at last!! A HUGE thanks to all of you who stuck with this story despite the slow updates! And more thanks to everyone who reviewed and encouraged me! This fic has been a pleasure to write, and I hope you enjoyed it!


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